


The Mark of a Gentleman

by Nimohtar



Series: The Avengers Lords and Ladies [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Fluff and Smut, FrostIron - Freeform, Frostiron Bang 2014, M/M, Regency Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2550041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimohtar/pseuds/Nimohtar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was 1821, and the last thing Loki wanted to do was waste time with a London Season, particularly one supporting Thor in his quest for a nubile, pretty wife; then his attention is caught by the enigmatic Tony Stark, visiting inventor and entrepreneur from America, and suddenly, Loki’s life takes an unexpected turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mark of a Gentleman

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the FrostIron Mini/Big Bang 2014. 
> 
> Artist: The wonderful Captain101, who captured Loki perfectly.  
> Artwork link: http://captain101.tumblr.com/post/101565457561/frostiron-bang-i-had-the-delight-to-draw-for-the
> 
> Banner artwork is my own. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The following story is based on situations and characters from the Marvel Cinematic Universe. No use other than entertainment is intended and no financial gain is being made. No trademark or copyright infringement is intended. Although I have included mentions of real-life places, people and events, some artistic licence has been taken.

 

Loki Aesir, second son of the Earl of Asgard, sipped from his dainty glass and tried to blend into the shadows of the room. It wasn’t the easiest thing to do, considering the great hall was lit to almost blinding brightness with giant chandeliers that dangled from the ceiling and candelabras spaced evenly around the walls, but Loki thought he’d made a passable effort at it in the last two hours he had already been in attendance.

From here he could watch the neatly quaffed array of men and women that filled the room, keeping an eye on the swirling dancers that took up most of the marble floor, and an ear on the ebb and flow of conversation that mingled with the sharp sounds of the string quartet.

It was a pretty sight, if Loki looked at it in the abstract and didn’t think too deeply about it; men and women in all their finery, on their best behaviours and manners, out to charm and seduce, and give themselves over to a pleasurable time. Still, it was hard to ignore the reality behind the tailored suits and beautifully crimped dresses – just a matter of politics and gossip and frivolity.

Loki preferred his books and his studies.

Truthfully, if he’d had a choice, he wouldn’t be attending Lady Elli’s Mid-Season Ball – any more than he’d be caught anywhere near London in the height of the Season – and yet here he was.

It was Odin’s decree, of course; it was time Thor put away his boyish ways and took a wife, and what better place than the London Season. Better still, the whole family would attend in support, and that included Loki.

He supposed it was just as well it wasn’t he who was destined to be entrapped in marriage, at least not yet. Being a second son had to come in handy some time.

Loki’s lips turned down slightly, and he took another sip of his slightly too sweet punch, letting his eyes travel round the room once more.

He could see Odin across the room talking to one of his former military comrades - the great war hero and respected noble, dignified and regal in his black tails, the black eye patch an added touch of danger; the Lady Frigga stood at his side, dressed in cornflower blue. No one could doubt the regard she held for her husband, or he for his wife.

They seemed to be enjoying themselves, at any rate, and why not? They were popular members of the ton, and garnered invites to all the most prestigious parties and gatherings, something which was extended also to their sons. Loki was sure that invitations would have come to them as a matter of course, being two single, handsome-looking, wealthy men as they were, but being connected to a respectable family like the Earl’s, well… no one would pass that up.

‘So this is where you’re lurking, is it?’  
  
Loki turned to face the speaker behind him, quirking his eyebrows up when he saw his brother. Thor was a magnificent sight, even Loki could admit, his golden hair unfashionably long, but accepted because it came with such a picture of virile strength. His coats were tailor made to fit his broad shoulders and waist, and he dwarfed most of the other men in the room.

Right now he gazed down at Loki with a knowingly cheerful grin, white teeth flashing and blue eyes glittering.  
  
‘I’m not lurking,’ Loki defended himself, not very well, as that was exactly what he’d been doing. ‘I’m simply...watching.’  
  
‘Well, then,’ Thor told him, ‘you can watch just as easily over there as here, so let’s go. Barton is with us, also.’  
  
Loki made a show of grumbling as he allowed Thor to propel him across the room to where the others were gathered, but truly he didn’t mind the company so much. It wasn’t that he liked most of Thor’s rather boisterous friends, but at least he might amuse a few of them with his witty comments, and he was eager to see Clint again, which might mean this evening wasn’t a complete waste of time.  
  
As he drew closer, he recognised Thor’s usual comrades: the dandyish Lord Fandral, always ahead of the current fashions; rotund Volstagg, food in one hand and drink in the other; and the more serious Hogun. They’d been his brother’s constant companions throughout childhood and adolescence, always ready with support and encouragement for whatever brainless impulse his brother could come up with. Loki blamed them entirely for Thor’s rather boisterous ways, and his tendency to drink to excess.  
  
Luckily, Loki could see Captain Rogers with them, who seemed to be tolerating the conversation rather than participating. A man much older in spirit than body, Loki hadn’t known what to think when Clint had introduced the Captain to their little crew, but Thor and the others had taken to him strangely well. There was an unspoken game between them to see how far they could push the Captain outside his comfort zone, one which Loki excelled at. No one could truly be that righteous and moral, Loki thought. Still, some of his seriousness did seem to rub off on Thor once in a while, so Loki would encourage him to stay for now.  
  
Beside Rogers was Clint Barton, the closest thing to a friend Loki supposed he had; both second sons of the family, they had been companions at school several years below Thor, and Clint had been a frequent visitor to Valhalla Hall, the Asgard country estate, before he’d chosen military service, rising to the position of Sergeant. Loki had missed his presence during the years he had been away, and was glad when he had returned. He had always been quiet, and Loki preferred that; he’d become quieter still after the war.  
  
Clint’s fiancée, the fiery-haired Miss Natasha Romanoff, stood with them. Although red-coloured hair was rarely considered fashionable among the ton, no one would deny Natasha’s place among the leading beauties of the Season, and many an envious sigh followed her as she went round the hall tonight. For Loki’s part, he had always thought there was something far more sinister about the mysterious girl that Clint had brought back from his travels; there were secrets lurking behind those steely eyes, he was certain, and some day he hoped to discover them.  
  
The last member of the group was a stranger to Loki, and a stranger to England it seemed, for Loki could hear the American drawl in his voice as he approached; he could only see the stranger’s back, but everyone in the group appeared to be listening intently.  
  
‘- I don’t think I’ve ever been so ill in my life, honestly, and believe me, there have been mornings where I’ve woken up not knowing my own name: they were heaven in comparison.’  
  
‘I found him,’ Thor boomed from behind Loki, reaching the group. They greeted Thor with smiles and Loki with nods.  
  
The American turned around, narrowly missing spilling some of the drink in his hand over Loki’s shoes.

He was shorter than Loki, but more solid in the chest and shoulders; he was dressed in the standard gentlemen’s dress of black jacket and trousers, a trend becoming more popular outside of Almack’s, and his cravat was decorated with a tasteful ruby and gold pin, to match his cufflinks. His brown hair was wavy, casually messed away from his face as if he often ran his fingers through it, and he had a neatly trimmed moustache and beard; it suited him, although Loki did not normally favour men with facial hair. Lastly, Loki met his eyes, and found them a light hazel colour, oddly warm and intelligent now as they took in Loki much as he had been doing to the American.

‘Brother, may I present Mr Anthony Stark; Anthony, my brother Loki,’ Thor introduced them.

‘Call me Tony, please,’ the other man said, offering his hand for Loki to shake. His grip when Loki reached out was warm and firm.

‘Tony was just telling us about the voyage from America,’ Fandral explained for Thor and Loki’s benefit. ‘He said he’s travelled extensively, but this latest journey sounds like a nightmare; privateers, lost cargo, stormy seas…’ He gave a delicate shudder.

Loki glanced at Stark, but the man simply shrugged in response to Fandral’s comments.

‘And what is it that brings you here, Anthony?’ Loki asked.

Stark’s lips twitched upwards in response to Loki’s address, but what he found amusing Loki wasn’t sure; the humour did not reach his eyes.

‘Oh, a bit of this and that,’ he replied evasively, setting his glass down on a nearby waiter’s tray. ‘Right this moment, I believe it’s dancing. Miss Romanoff, how about it?’ he asked, stretching out his hand and nodding towards the dance floor.

‘A somewhat unorthodox method of asking, but I’ll accept,’ she replied, placing her hand in his and allowing him to lead her to the floor where a new set was just drawing up.

‘A good idea,’ Thor said enthusiastically, ‘I believe I shall seek out the Lady Sif.’

With Thor and Stark departed, Volstagg, Fandral and Hogun left in pursuit of food and cards, leaving Loki and Clint alone. Loki stepped up to his friend, and keeping his voice low, asked: ‘So, what do we know about him?’

Clint showed no surprise at Loki’s question. ‘He’s definitely an eccentric,’ he answered simply, his eyes lazily scanning the room, ‘and he’s filthy rich, self-made money dealing in arms and military bonds. Supposedly played a large part in the war of ’12.’

Loki’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘What’s he doing here?’

‘As far as he describes it, a pleasure trip – although I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s some business involved. He’s got a house on Jermyn Street, and rumours say he’s got some important doctors or scientists staying with him.’

Loki hummed as he considered that information. It wasn’t implausible, yet something about it left an uneasy taste in his mouth. Lady Frigga called him overly suspicious; Loki liked to call it cautious.

Clint continued. ‘Likes to flirt and charm, and seems to be pretty good at it too.’

‘I’d watch him with Miss Romanoff, in that case,’ Loki told his friend, his eyes moving to find the dancing couple; Natasha seemed to be enjoying herself, her smile genuine rather than false; Stark appeared to be a skilled dancer.

‘Oh, Nat can take care of herself,’ Clint replied easily.

‘Do you know what he wants with Thor? How did they come to be acquainted?’

Clint frowned slightly. ‘Not sure about the second question, you’d have to ask him. As for what he wants… so far, it seems just to make some friends and have a good time here.’ He shot Loki a knowing look from the corner of his eyes. ‘Protecting big brother, are you?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Loki denied breezily.

Clint hummed, the corners of his mouth curling upwards. ‘I believe your brother has invited us all to attend White’s tomorrow; will you come?’

‘Perhaps,’ Loki evaded. ‘I will let you know.’

He left Clint then, and made his way to Odin and Lady Frigga to say his goodbyes. A few moments later after collecting his hat and cane, he was stepping out of the hall into the warm April air. The night was still young by the ton’s standards, but Loki had had enough for the eve, and wished to return home.

One of the servants offered to hail him a hackney, but Loki waved him away, preferring to walk. There was a nice breeze in the air, and things were quiet – Loki’s preferred pace. He took Curzon Street, heading towards their London home on Park Lane. Odin could afford to maintain a London home all year round, rather than rent during the Season, and it came in handy for visiting friends and business here, for both Loki and Thor.

As he walked, his thoughts turned to Thor, and what was he to do with his elder brother.  
  
From very early on, it had been abundantly clear that Thor wasn’t the most perceptive of individuals. He was brash, impulsive, and loud; he preferred to rough and tumble than engage in meaningful conversations. He also thought the best of people, and tended to trust too easily.  
  
As a child, Loki had despised him for it.  
  
Thor had always made friends easily, had always gathered people to him, both adults and children, while Loki had most often been left in solitude. It wasn’t particularly surprising, really. Thor was the epitome of an angelic child in terms of looks, and much brighter in disposition, even with a tendency to veer towards tantrums when his needs weren’t met – which was rarely. Loki, on the other hand, had been a gangly, thin child, preoccupied with books, and a shadow compared with Thor.  
  
And so he’d withdrawn, alone in his envy, which had only turned to bitterness when he’d come to learn of the nobility and succession, and had known that no matter what he became and what he did, Thor would always be considered better than he, just because he’d been born first.

He’d punished Thor, then, spent years brushing him aside, sharpening his tongue with insults. He’d ignored his mother’s pleas to set aside his animosity, ignored his father’s threats and reprimands – for what would come of them? he’d thought. He was unwanted. He was unworthy.  
  
Thor had borne it all with a kind of sad bafflement – which only infuriated Loki more.  
  
He’d never know what might have become of them had that day not happened: when Thor had almost died, and Loki had saved his life. That day had been a crossroads – a day their relationship might have been destroyed for good, or a new start.

Loki wasn’t sure what had made him choose the latter. Maturity, perhaps, or a desire to let go of his hatred. More likely it was the fear of being alone.

They’d repaired their relationship, learned how to be brothers again, and so it had been since then. Some aspects had changed as they’d become older, but those same basic personality traits were still there.

Only now Loki preferred to protect Thor than contemplate how to take advantage.

Thinking back on the evening, his musings turned towards Mr Anthony Stark. A very unusual man, as Clint had said, but what else, Loki hadn’t yet decided.

He would keep an eye on him, though. He didn’t quite trust his motives, and if Thor insisted on spending time with him and inviting him into their circle, then Loki would simply have to endure the increase in social outings. It would please his parents at least.

By the time he reached their house, he was grimacing slightly as he thought of what the rest of the Season would entail.

Heimdhall chuckled as he opened the door for him. ‘The evening did not please you, sir?’

Loki snorted softly, waving over his shoulder at their long-time butler. ‘I am retiring for the evening.’

‘Yes, sir; you must keep up your strength,’ Heimdhall commented dryly.

Loki chuckled as he closed the door to his room, shutting off the outside world for now.  


* * *

 

 

He got his chance to keep watch on Anthony Stark the next night, accompanying Thor to his Gentleman’s Club for cards and drink; Thor issued the invitation out of rote now, although years of accepting Loki’s refusals meant he’d been surprised by Loki’s desire to join him this time, and the look he’d given him had been contemplative.

They journeyed together in Thor’s carriage, and were greeted warmly at the door of the Club as regulars, ushered inside and offered drinks while their hats and scarves were taken away.

Most of the others had already arrived, and Thor and Loki joined them at their usual seats in an alcove close to the fireplace. Loki accepted a glass of Prosecco as he took a seat beside Clint, glancing around the room to see who else had ventured out this evening. Mr Stark had not yet arrived, so Loki bided his time listening to Hogun and Fandral debate the merits of a recent proposal raised the previous day in the House of Lords, content to remain silent.

It was almost a full hour later, during which time Thor had persuaded Volstagg, Barton and Hogun to a game of cards, Captain Rogers had temporarily abandoned the group to strike up conversation with another acquaintance, and Loki was becoming both bored and somewhat annoyed, that Stark finally arrived, with the flushed and bright-eyed look of someone who had already been imbibing that evening.

‘Sorry I’m so late, everyone, I got somewhat held up.’

Thor smiled up at him. ‘No matter, Anthony. You are here now. I am afraid that you’ve caught us mid-game…’ he trailed off somewhat apologetically, glancing in uncertainty around the table.

Finally pleased that he could put this evening to some use, Loki rose smoothly from his seat. ‘There is a billiards table; perhaps I could persuade you to a game?’

Stark looked at him briefly, his brown eyes showing faint surprise, before he smiled obligingly. ‘Sure, why not?’

Loki acknowledged Thor’s grateful look with a small nod as he led Stark from the room. ‘Would you care for a drink?’ Loki asked him, glancing over his shoulder at the shorter man. He was not above plying the man with alcohol if it might loosen his tongue.

‘Gin and Tonic, please,’ Stark answered, and Loki motioned for one of the waiting staff, murmuring his order as they entered the billiards room. It was a cosy, somewhat dark room, filled only with the large billiards table, a few chairs dotted around for players or spectators, and some landscapes hanging from the red wall-papered walls. It was also empty, which suited Loki perfectly.

They selected their cues, and Loki set up the coloured balls; Stark’s drink arrived, and then they were alone. They played the first few shots in companionable silence, broken eventually by Stark, who spoke as Loki was leaning forward to line another hit.

‘You play well. Who taught you?’

Loki pocketed the ball and stood straight, chalking the end of his cue as he glanced to Stark, who was perched on one of the seats, glass in hand.

‘My father,’ Loki replied easily, ‘when I was young.’

Stark shot him a disbelieving look. ‘Earl of Asgard? Somehow I can’t quite picture him doing something so refined… He looks like he’d be more suited to, I don’t know, waving a sword around, or brandishing a spear.’

Loki gave a thin-lipped smile. ‘I am sure he has participated in such activities at some time or other. We never had much in common, but it was one of the few pursuits when he favoured my company over Thor’s - that and playing chess. Thor had no head for the patient and precise; he preferred more active pursuits.’ He set down the chalk and took another shot, watched as the ball hit the edge and rolled across the green felt. He stepped aside and studied the American as he took his place, the small show of pulling his sleeves away from his wrists, the little hum he made as he considered various angles. For all the minor dramatics, his technique was more than proficient.

‘You seem to have a knack for the game yourself.’

‘It’s all just a matter of angles and trajectory,’ Stark explained. ‘A single touch can change the course; where too little or too much strength can make all the difference. Patience and precision, as you said.’ There was a sudden influx of emotion in his voice, a lightness in his eyes as if he were discussing something which brought him great joy. He grinned up at Loki. ‘I find it fascinating.’

‘Clearly,’ Loki answered with just a touch of bemusement, and found himself unwilling to make the kind of scathing comment he normally would in such a situation. ‘Well, then, perhaps you would care to make a small wager. Best of three games.’

‘Oh?’ Stark asked casually, eyebrows rising. ‘For money?’

Loki gave a quick shake of his head. ‘I have no need, as I’m sure neither do you.’

Stark chuckled. ‘Well no, but for us, money’s rarely about _need_.’ His tongue curled over his lips on the last word.

‘Hmm,’ Loki acknowledged. ‘Something more interesting, I thought. How about an honest answer, to a single question.’

Stark considered him for a moment, before shrugging. ‘Odd choice, but all right. Shall we reset?’

They cleared the unfinished game, and began again. They played in silence once more, the atmosphere less casual and more competitive now, though still fairly relaxed. Both men seemed confident in their skills. Loki won the first game; Stark won the second. Midway through the third, Loki’s success was almost guaranteed, and he was already feeling pleased with his evening’s work. His mistake was to glance at Stark when he caught movement from the corner of his eye; Stark’s profile was turned to him, and he’d removed his cravat, exposing his throat and the shadowed hollow at the base.

He tore his eyes away, but in the same moment his hand jerked, and Loki fumbled his shot.

‘Damn,’ he cursed softly to himself – at himself – stepping away and reaching for his own glass. He took a large gulp, to steady himself, and ignored Stark’s curious gaze. He was inwardly berating himself for his lapse, in will and composure, not just because it had cost him the game, he was sure.

Five minutes later, and he was proved right, as Stark pocketed the last ball.

Loki accepted his defeat gracefully; Stark had played a good game, and his distraction was no one’s fault but his own; it would be beneath him to act churlishly now. ‘Congratulations.’ He offered his hand with a rueful smile. ‘I believe I owe you an answer. Ask your question.’

Stark cocked his head to the side, gave Loki a grin that could only be described as cheeky. ‘You know what, I think I’ll take an I-Owe-You on that. Never know when I might need it.’ He winked.

Loki felt a momentary tug of war inside him between consternation that Stark would force him to wait to pay his debt, even one so simple as an answer to a question, and amusement at the other’s obvious good nature. He settled for the latter, not all that eager to spoil the amiable mood between them.

‘As you wish,’ he replied.

Before they could continue the conversation, the door to the room burst open, and Thor stumbled inside with a cry of ‘Brother! Anthony! We’d thought you’d abandoned us.’

‘No,’ Loki responded, turning reluctantly from Stark to face his brother; his smile was firmly back in place, although in reality he lamented his brother’s interruption. ‘We were just finished.’

‘Good!’ Thor announced. ‘Then you can join us for more drinks.’

 

* * *

 

 

Despite his usual inclinations, Loki remained with the party for the rest of the evening, watching as drinks flowed in abundance and intelligent conversation turned to ribald jokes and nonsensical laughter. He told himself that he was just keeping an eye on Thor, conveniently forgetting his customary position that Thor should be allowed to learn from his mistakes, otherwise how would he ever improve himself.

The secondary gain was that he could continue to monitor Stark, a desire which the billiards game had only added to. Stark had proved to be good company, and continued to show the same throughout the night, matching Thor in the amount of alcohol consumed, joining in with Hogun in re-enacting rude ditties, and even challenging Clint to a game of darts, which he soundly lost, but did not seem to mind. Although some suspicion remained, Loki was inclined to believe that the American had no ulterior motives towards Thor; he appeared to genuinely like their company.

The boisterous nature of Thor and his friends allowed Loki to keep his own counsel for several hours longer; when it was time to make their way home, Loki joined them outside the Club, waving goodbye to Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg as they tumbled into Volstagg’s coach. He shared a smile with Barton, who’d volunteered to escort them home.

That left Loki, Stark and Thor. ‘Do you have transport?’ Loki asked the American.

Stark’s brown eyes were somewhat blurred from the effect of alcohol, and he turned to Loki with a somewhat distracted mumble. ‘Um…no, I walked,’ he offered after a few seconds.

‘I suggest we offer you a lift to your residence, in that case; it’s on our way, I believe.’

The three men settled into the carriage, Thor and Loki to one side, with Stark opposite Loki. Thor immediately slumped against Loki’s shoulder, and Loki gave a little sigh as he shoved his brother in the opposite direction so that his face rested against the padded seat. Thor didn’t seem to notice.

Stark was still distracted, and Loki wasn’t too surprised; Thor’s drinking prowess was well known, and Stark had gamely attempted to keep up with him; on top of whatever he’d drunk before he’d arrived, he was holding up remarkably well, Loki thought, both in faculties and appearance.

His hair was mussed and stood up at odd angles, and his cravat had remained undone since he’s first removed it; the shadows and light through the carriage window played over his skin and face, presenting an enticing image.

Loki looked away. It was not wise to think such thoughts.

The Asgardian coach took them through the quiet streets of London, dawn already beginning to light the edges of the city so late had they stayed; well, late by anyone’s standards but the _ton_ , for whom such hours were the norm.

The carriage stopped mid-Jermyn Street, the address Stark had given to the driver. One look at the man told Loki that if he wanted to make his bed, assistance would definitely be required. He stepped out of the carriage and offered his arm inside for the other to grasp.

‘Come on, then,’ he coaxed him, and managed to retrieve him from the carriage without mishap.

‘M’fine,’ Stark mumbled, attempting to step away from Loki, only to stumble on a loose cobble and nearly pitch headfirst into the carriage door.

‘Of course you are,’ Loki muttered, eyebrows raised; rolling his shoulders, he once more reached for Stark, this time managing to secure his arm around the other’s waist.

‘Do you need a hand, sir?’ the coachman asked from his seat, but Loki waved him away.

They manoeuvred their way up the steps to the front door, which Loki was grateful to see was already being held open by a tall man dressed in butler’s garb. He stepped aside to allow Loki entrance.

‘If you’d be so kind as to help me deposit him in the Blue room, I will see to him.’ He spoke with a crisp British accent, which took Loki by surprise.

He followed the manservant’s directions across the tiled entrance hall to a door on the right, nudging it open to find a comfortable sitting room, with several cabinets lining the walls, a side table covered with papers, and a divan to one side.

‘Put him there,’ the manservant directed, pointing to the divan. ‘I will fetch a cushion and a blanket; I won’t be a moment.’

Loki nodded even as he headed towards the divan, removing Stark’s arm from his shoulders and attempting to twist him onto the settee. Unfortunately in that moment, Stark lost his balance and his legs tangled with Loki’s, tipping them both into an ungainly sprawl on the divan. Loki grunted as Stark’s head smacked into his chin, and instinctively pushed down with his hands on Stark’s chest to stop himself falling further onto the other.

‘Of all the senseless…’ he began, but cut himself off, for Stark was clearly unconscious and berating him would be of little use. Instead, Loki pushed further down onto his chest intending to lever himself up, when he paused, struck but the odd feeling of ridges beneath his fingers.

Sitting back on his haunches, perched on the edge of the divan, with one leg still mostly resting on Stark’s, he ran one of his hands along the edge of Stark’s shirt. It was completely inappropriate, he told himself, and he should just stop at once and leave, but his fingers were already slipping open the shirt to reveal Stark’s bare chest.

His first thought was it must have been a savage weapon to have caused the scars that spread across Stark’s chest, a starburst of white ridges and silvery skin that centred around his heart. They looked old and long healed, and clearly did not seem to cause Stark any pain or discomfort, but Loki couldn’t help but wonder at the cause of them. He’d thought Stark a privileged and pampered soul. The injury suggested that at some point, it had been otherwise.

He reached out, his fingertips just grazing over the surface of the skin.

A pointed cough from the doorway broke him from his reverie, and he rose quickly to his feet, glancing to the manservant standing there with a blanket and pillow clasped in his hands. His face was expressionless, no indication of his thoughts on the somewhat suspicious position he’d found them in.

‘My thanks for bringing him home,’ was all he said, and Loki nodded his acceptance of the gratitude, but understood it for the dismissal it was.

He left without another word or look into the room, almost holding his breath until he was once more settled in the carriage beside Thor; his brother was still dead to the world, and Loki was grateful for that as he rested his head in his hands, the points of his elbows digging in his knees.

Foolish, foolish man, he scolded himself. What had he been thinking? Or more accurately, why had he _not_ been thinking?

The answer came to him easily: Stark had turned his head, and although that in itself was not unusual, for there had been several to whom he had found himself attracted – few women, more men – usually he had the wits not to show it in such a public way. He’d learned that the hard way.

He could only be grateful that Stark had been senseless, and only the manservant had seen, although what stories he would tell Stark Loki could only guess. He’d simply have to wait and see what came of this evening, and what damage limitation he might be required to do.

These were the kind of errors he expected Thor to make, not himself.

At that thought, he glanced to his brother, still slumped to one side, now with a trickle of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. Loki grimaced, and pulling himself together, rapped on the roof of the carriage with his cane, instructing the driver to return them home.

He would have plenty of time to think on Stark tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

 

Aside from the rare occasions when an unexpected emergency or moment of creative genius required it, Tony was not a fast riser. He tended to wake in incremental stages, first becoming aware of his own body, the feel of his heavy limbs and breathing, the soreness in his head following a heavy night of drinking, the stickiness of his eyes, or lips; this was followed by the gradual building awareness of his immediate surroundings: his brain would catalogue the texture and shape of whatever he was lying on, was he surrounded by heat or cold, was he inside or outside, was there anyone around him. It was akin to a newborn learning of the world for the first time. For someone whose mind was often on overdrive, these periods of sluggishness were unfamiliar, yet an interesting variation of the norm. For Tony, drinker that he was, it was a fairly frequent occurrence.

Unfortunately, lately these occurrences seemed to always be accompanied by Jarvis’ dulcet tones

‘Sir, I think you’ll find it’s time to rise.’

Tony moaned in disagreement, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘G’way,’ he muttered.

‘Breakfast has been laid, and the others are all up and ready to meet the day,’ Jarvis continued as if he hadn’t heard Tony’s protest. ‘Your bath has been run upstairs, and I have laid out your garments for today.’

‘What tim’zit?’ Tony mumbled.

'Eleven, sir.’

‘No. Sleeptime,’ Tony determined, and relaxed back on the couch he seemed to be lying on.

‘I disagree, sir. I can stand here all day if needs be.’ The manservant’s tone turned sharper.

From experience, Tony knew that was perfectly true. In sheer self-defence against the prospect of more scolding, Tony pried open his eyes and pushed himself upright. There was a brief moment of confusion on finding himself in the downstairs drawing room as opposed to his bedroom, but it was hardly the most unusual place he had woken up, so he took it in his stride, rubbing his face with his hands to work himself into a slightly more robust state of wakefulness.

He took brief stock of his physical state, noting the usual vague throbbing in his head that followed a late or rowdy night, but otherwise he seemed fairly intact. In terms of mental state, he could remember most of the evening before, including Loki and the billiards game, but from then on it was mostly a blur. He’d try to piece it together later.

‘All right, I’m awake,’ he announced, rising to his feet with a vague attempt at a flourish.

Jarvis’ raised eyebrows said it all.

In this instance, as indeed in many of them, he followed Jarvis’ instructions because it was the easiest, most sensible thing to do. He was ushered upstairs and deposited in the tub in his dressing room, and allowed Jarvis to scrub and shave and rinse him into a semblance of a civilised human being – although what there was to be civilised about at eleven in the morning eluded him at times.

Fifteen minutes later, he was standing in front of the mirror adjusting his shirt collar and the navy cravat Jarvis had given him to wear to match his dark grey day suit.

‘When did I make it home?’ He asked the other man, who was folding Tony’s discarded clothes from the evening before.

‘I believe it was nearing four in the morning.’ The manservant paused. ‘Would you care to know who escorted you inside?’

Tony paused briefly, a flicker of both interest and alarm igniting. ‘Who?’ he queried.

‘I believe it was the young Loki Aesir who brought you into the house.’ There was a strange insinuating tone to Jarvis’ voice, one that Tony couldn’t quite work out.

‘What aren’t you telling me?’

‘Oh, nothing, sir.’ Jarvis nodded towards the door pointedly. ‘I believe you have kept your guests from breakfast long enough.’

Tony snorted. ‘I’m pretty sure my guests can get to breakfast on their own,’ he pointed out, but headed towards the door anyhow, calling back over his shoulder, ‘I’ll find out what it is eventually!'

If Jarvis made a reply, he didn’t hear it, descending the stairs and making his way to the breakfast-dining room. On entering he saw his guests were indeed there and settled ahead of him, although not everyone, which made him inwardly thumb his nose at Jarvis’ insinuation he would be the last to arrive.

‘Morning, Erik, Bruce,’ he greeted, taking a seat beside the latter, dropping into the chair with an exaggerated groan.

Dr Erik Selvig mumbled a reply from behind his newspaper, nodding his head to Tony absently, clearly distracted by more fascinating things if the cup of cold coffee and half-eaten toast was any indication. Erik didn’t tend to dress formally while at home or while working on the project, and now was no exception, as his shirt was creased and stained in a few places, and Tony could see his slippers poking out from under his trousers.

If Tony thought he could get away with it, he’d probably have done the same, but as Jarvis liked to remind him, he was mixing with the ton nowadays, which meant being always ready to receive visitors at home. He could easily avoid them, true, but there was a reason he was socialising in those circles and he’d best not scupper it.

The other man at the table was in a somewhat better state of dress, not expensive, but certainly not too shabby for a scientist either – then again, Dr Bruce Banner had been a friend of Tony’s for a very long time, and that kind of friendship had its rewards.

His response to Tony’s greeting was slightly more engaged, offering Tony a warm smile that lit up his brown eyes. ‘Such a weary sigh,’ he commented in his gentle voice. ‘What shall I get you?’ he offered, motioning towards the breakfast platters laid out on the side table.

Tony glanced in their direction, grimacing at the thought of eggs and meats this early. ‘I’ll be fine with coffee,’ he told the other man, and proceeded to pour himself a cup from the elegant silver decanter. He hummed approvingly as he took the first sip.

‘Was your night worth it?’ Bruce asked lightly, ignoring Tony’s previous statement and placing a plate of buttered toast next to Tony’s elbow. Seeing as it was there, Tony figured he may as well help himself.

‘What I remember of it,’ Tony replied, quirking a smile at the other man.

‘If that’s the case, you’d have been far better off coming with us,’ a woman’s voice commented from the doorway as the last of Tony’s guests entered the room.

Bruce was the only one at the table to rise to his feet in a show of gentlemanly manners; Erik had spent so long treating his god-daughter like a male colleague that any reminder of her true sex probably caught him off guard; and as for Tony, well, Tony only used his manners when he thought they might be to his benefit, and he’d learned very early on in their friendship that Lady Jane Foster was not susceptible to his charm.

It was also true that Jane didn’t exactly adhere to the typical social expectations of a lady; her teal green skirt and white and teal striped shirt were plain, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows; her hair was tied back in a loose bun, with stray wisps floating around her face and neck; she wore no make-up and no jewellery, and all in all, did very little to display her rank. The fault of this was laid entirely on Erik, who’d been raising her since the age of thirteen. He was also responsible for her interest in science, although her intelligence was all her own.

She strode across the room to the side table and filled her plate before seating herself next to her god-father, and continuing the thread of conversation. ‘I thought Sir Humphrey Davy gave a very informed lecture on his attempts to create the electric motor; he may have failed, but he certainly raised a few interesting ideas, so I daresay our evening was more productive than yours.’

‘If that’s supposed to make me feel guilty for not coming, it’s not working,’ Tony responded. ‘I don’t remember it being specified anywhere that my contributions to the project involved going to musty halls and science lectures.’

Jane arched her eyebrows. ‘I also don’t recall them involving you getting soused on a nightly basis.’

Tony grinned winsomely. ‘I do some of my best thinking while intoxicated. Tell me, though, how are we doing with the experiment?’

Breakfast was quickly forgotten as more important matters took precedence, and the quartet of scientists-slash-inventor quickly abandoned the breakfast room in favour of the upstairs library where the majority of their research was being carried out. Jane and Bruce explained the progress of the previous day, while Tony and Erik looked over the drawings and calculations for the re-model. Jane also regaled Tony with highlights from the lecture the previous night, and although Tony still maintained everything mentioned were things he already knew and had worked on before, and therefore he’d been right in his assessment of the evening being a waste of time, a few ideas came to mind; he resolutely refused to let her see him jotting down a few notes as she spoke.

When Bruce had first brought the idea of electromagnetism to Tony’s attention following his dealings with a Danish man by the name of Oersted, Tony had become fascinated. Energy had always interested him, and he’d been heavily involved in the designs of the Stark Industries weapons business, but lately his creative mind had turned elsewhere, and the idea of a new kind of energy had certainly lit a spark inside him – forgive the pun.

For Tony, it would be a change of legacy, something which he had been strongly considering for the last several years following Obadiah’s betrayal. A method of creating new energy and power would certainly clear those memories, perhaps put that dark stain of his past finally to rest; and if he could help people rather than hurt, all the better.

To that end he and Bruce had joined forces, and in turn several months ago called upon Erik and Jane to join them in perfecting Oersted’s investigations. If it succeeded, it would certainly be a lucrative venture for them all.

In the last six months since the project had started, they’d become a close-knit group; they valued each others’ intellect, acknowledged their strengths and weaknesses. They worked well together too. Bruce and Erik had collaborated on several projects, and Tony and Bruce had years of friendship and a slightly more personal relationship between them.

Discussion and plans flowed easily, and the day progressed swiftly, as days spent on the project often did, Tony throwing himself into his work and letting all other concerns fade away for the moment.

 

* * *

 

‘Brother! I have need of you,’ Thor boomed, throwing open the door to the library and striding in without care for how the door slammed against the wall.

Loki glanced sideways without raising his head, then returned his eyes to the ledger on the writing table in front of him, scrawling another note with his pen. ‘I’m busy,’ he told Thor. ‘Go bother your friends if you’re bored.’

‘They are busy,’ Thor informed him, throwing himself into the love-seat beside the window, conveniently positioned beside Loki’s desk. ‘Rogers and Barton must attend a military meeting, and Fandrall, Hogun and Volstagg are all engaged in other business.’ His tone suggested that their lack of availability was a personal affront against him.

Loki turned the page. ‘No,’ he told him succinctly. ‘ _I’m_ busy.’

‘I have it!’ Thor said enthusiastically, completely disregarding Loki’s objection. ‘We shall go visit Anthony!’

Loki, who had been about to object more strenuously, found the words died on his tongue.

After the evening at the Gentleman’s Club and the awkward position in which Stark’s manservant had caught him, he’d been wary of repercussions. He’d had an innocent explanation planned should he be questioned, but he found he had no need of it. Stark had made no mention of that evening in the few times they had been in the same company, and Loki did not think it was simply due to lack of privacy to speak. He felt sure that as confident and shameless a man as Stark appeared to be, he would have no compunction against questioning Loki or calling attention to his blunder, and yet he had not. It was entirely possible that the manservant had kept the incident to himself; Loki had no way of knowing otherwise.

In light of it though, and his original purpose to divine Stark’s reason for currying friendship with his brother, Loki had spent the better part of the last fortnight paying a great deal of attention to Anthony Stark. In that time he’d set aside his suspicions of nefarious motives against Thor, which eased a certain amount of his misgivings against the other man.

More unexpectedly, he’d also come to like the man. He had a wicked and irreverent personality, and wit and humour to match. He’d slotted easily into their small group.

And still too, there was that thread of attraction that Loki felt for him.

Suddenly, the prospect of joining Thor in his outing did not seem quite as distasteful.

He closed his ledger with a soft thud and screwed shut his ink pen. ‘Very well, you have persuaded me.’

Thor looked comically startled for a brief instant. ‘I have?’ His eyes narrowed, as if he knew that there was something he’d missed, but couldn’t quite figure it out. It didn’t deter him for long, and his expression turned boyish once more as he rose to his feet. ‘We shall have a grand time, you’ll see. Perhaps Anthony will allow us to ride in his new carriage. Go get ready, brother, we shall leave as soon as possible,’ he ordered even as he strode out of the room.

Loki sighed in exasperated affection, but moved to comply; he found his heart beating just a touch faster in anticipation.

 

* * *

 

 

Thor and Loki exited the hired hansom in front of Stark’s house. While Thor paid the driver, Loki mounted the steps to ring the large brass bell beside the door. It was then he realised that Stark’s manservant would likely be the one to answer, the first time he would see him since that night, and wished he’d let Thor knock on the door instead.

Too late, as the door was already being opened, and Loki just had time to square his shoulders and smile politely as the manservant gazed down at him.

‘We are here to see Mr Stark,’ Loki informed him.

‘Is he expecting you?’ the manservant asked, following the usual protocol; it was unlikely Stark would not have informed him if he were anticipating guests.

‘No, but Anthony will not mind,’ Thor answered for them both, reaching Loki at the door.

‘If you will follow me, I will fetch Mr Stark.’

The manservant led them inside – ironically – to the same drawing room he’d had Loki take Stark last time. It was different in the daylight, a strange mix of masculinity with style. Loki wondered who had designed the room.

While Thor made himself comfortable on the settee, Loki steadfastly avoided it, instead wandering the room to glance at books and objects. A sheaf of papers on the side table caught his eye – pages filled with handwritten notes, equations and scientific diagrams of the like that Loki had never seen before. He twisted the page in a different direction, hoping to make more sense of it.

There were footsteps outside the door, and he stepped away from the side table turning towards the front of the room. He was expecting Stark or the manservant to enter; he wasn’t expecting a woman to enter: she was young, but no simpering miss, dressed in a long dark blue skirt and white shirt that appeared almost mannishly large on her frame, and her brown hair was tied back in a simple plait. She appeared as surprised by their presence as they clearly were by hers.

‘Jarvis didn’t say we had guests,’ she said, and although her words might have appeared unwelcome, her smile was warm and her eyes curious. She stepped forward and held out her hand to Thor. ‘Lady Jane Foster,’ she introduced herself. ‘And you are?’

Thor appeared absolutely flustered, rising to his feet awkwardly and reaching out for her hand, although once he took it, he just held it, as if uncertain whether to shake it or lift it to his lips as he would meeting most ladies. Jane – Lady Jane, apparently – resolved the issue by shaking it for him, all the while looking amused.

‘Thor Aesir, Viscount Mjolnir,’ Thor told her, releasing her hand.

Her smile grew wider. ‘How nice to finally meet you after hearing about you from Tony. If you’re Thor, then you must be Loki Aesir,’ she said, turning to face Loki and holding her hand out once more.

Loki took it with more aplomb than Thor had, although even he found it strange to shake hands with her as if she were a man.

Clearly he hadn’t hid it as well as he’d thought, for she let out a cheerful laugh as she retrieved her hand. ‘I bet you think me strange – it wouldn’t be the first time.’ Her eyes strayed past Loki, and suddenly they lit up as she spied something. ‘Oh! That’s where they are! I knew I’d seen them somewhere.’

She reached past Loki to pick up the sheaf of scientific papers he had been looking at previously, and appeared pleased with what she saw. She glanced up at the two brothers. ‘You may as well come upstairs; we’re all gathered there.’

Bemusedly, Loki and Thor followed Lady Jane from the room and towards the stairs where they met with Jarvis descending.

‘I have informed Mr Stark; he will be down with you shortly,’ he told them.

‘No need, Jarvis, we’ll head on up. Why don’t you fetch some tea for our guests?’ Lady Jane suggested instead.

‘As you wish,’ Jarvis replied, and stepped aside to allow the three of them to pass.

Lady Jane led them to the first floor and along the corridor to a set of double doors, pushing it open to reveal a study-library. Stark was there, as well as two gentlemen that Loki had not seen before; all three appeared busy with some sort of project, books and papers strewn over the floor and long wooden table that stood at the centre of the room. To one side a large chalk-board had been propped against a set of shelves, and Stark was stood before it, his shirt unbuttoned and the sleeves pulled up to his elbows, a piece of chalk in his hand, which he was using to scribble on the board. He paused when he saw them enter, and the other two men craned their heads around also.

‘Tony, I found them!’ Lady Jane uttered, waving the sheaf of papers before her.

Stark’s face became visibly excited, and he stepped lightly over what seemed to be a crate filled with odd-ends of metal. He took them from her outstretched hand and scanned them rapidly, before turning on his heel and returning to the chalk-board, adding in some extra figures and drawings with a flourish.

‘And that, gentlemen, is how we’re going to get this to work,’ he announced into the room.

One of the men seated at the table rose to his feet. ‘Tony, you’re a genius,’ he enthused, and Loki noted the foreign accent.

Stark grinned, a little smugly, and glanced over at Loki and Thor. ‘Was meaning to head down earlier, but got a bit distracted,’ he said by way of an apology.

‘What is it you’re working on?’ Loki asked, intrigued.

‘Electromagnetism,’ Stark explained, as if that word would hold significance for the brothers. ‘Creating magnetic energy through electricity – it’s a fairly new concept, but we think we’ve made a bit of a breakthrough in it, and these are the designs of the generator we’re planning to build.’

‘Perhaps you’ll permit me to step in before Tony confuses you completely,’ the third gentleman said, rising from his seat. ‘I’m Dr Bruce Banner, and this is my colleague Dr Erik Selvig -’ he motioned towards the foreign gentleman before continuing, ‘- We’re Tony’s colleagues in this project; we are writing a scientific thesis on this topic which we hope to present in the near future.’

‘I think you’re forgetting someone,’ Lady Jane said with a mixture of amusement and consternation, although it may have been partly feigned considering her smile.

‘She’s helping too,’ Stark interjected.

‘How remarkable,’ Thor commented, appearing impressed – both by the project and Lady Jane’s involvement supposedly.

Loki kept his own impressions to himself, although he did step forward to view the sketches more closely. ‘What do you hope to achieve with it?’

Selvig chuckled. ‘Whatever is possible! New energy will create new science, equipment, machinery. It will change so many things should we succeed in it.’

‘A most promising endeavour,’ Loki murmured, still not quite understanding the intricacies of what they were doing, but able to appreciate the enthusiasm and _conviction_ they all exuded.

Stark nodded, glancing over the equations on the board almost with pride before turning to Thor and Loki with a questioning glint in his eye. ‘That reminds me, what are you both doing here? I forgot to ask Jarvis.’

‘We came to ask you to join us in an outing,’ Thor informed him, his former enthusiasm relighting.

‘We should leave you to your work…’ Loki demurred, strangely hesitant to tear Stark away from this little gathering he’d unexpectedly stumbled upon.

‘Nonsense,’ Dr Banner interrupted with a smile. ‘Tony, go out with the Aesirs, we can take a break.’

‘What did you have in mind?’ Stark queried, clearly considering the idea.

‘There was mention of a new carriage,’ Thor suggested hopefully.

Stark looked somewhat indulgent as he said, ‘I suppose I did promise, didn’t I?’, but there was genuine interest in the idea Loki could tell, which went some way to salve his own unease at interrupting the complex project Stark was embroiled in.

‘A ride around the park sounds just the thing,’ Lady Jane agreed, boldly inviting herself on the excursion; her expression neither challenged nor inquired, seemingly taking their acceptance as a given. ‘I’ll just go change into something more suitable.’

Stark nodded, and Thor mumbled something unintelligible, a slight flush creeping up the side of his neck.

‘I believe I shall do the same,’ Stark told them.

 

* * *

 

 

It didn’t take long for Stark and Lady Jane to reappear in the side-sitting room where Thor and Loki had been ushered to wait; both had changed into clothes more suitable for a carriage-ride, Tony in boots, breeches and dark green superfine coat, and Lady Jane in a rather simple yet elegant dark grey velvet riding dress, now with her hair pinned up under the purple, beribboned hat she wore. The masculine - yet touch of feminine frivolity - look suited her.

Stark had clearly given the order for the horses and carriage to be prepared, as it was waiting outside the front door when they exited the house, and Loki could see why Thor had been impressed. The barouche-sociable was an expensive-looking, sleek build, painted a deep ruby red with brass wheel rims and accessories. Two light bay geldings were hitched to the rains, prancing impatiently in their traces as they were directed by the driver seated on the box.

Thor whistled, ignoring the others in favour of running his hands along the shining surface of the vehicle. ‘Anthony, this is a fine piece,’ he complimented him.

Stark shrugged away the compliment, but there was a pleased gleam to his eyes as he opened the door of the sociable and handed Lady Jane into the forward-facing seat. He motioned for Loki to enter next, and Loki did; after a brief moment to consider the seating arrangements, he took the seat opposite Lady Jane, and was pleased when Tony settled beside him. Thor was the last to enter, bouncing down next to Lady Jane with almost boyish excitement. Stark craned his neck around and motioned to the driver, who clicked his teeth and snapped his whip, setting the horses into steady motion.

It was a short stretch along Piccadilly to Hyde Park Corner, and then they were turning into the South Carriage Drive. It wasn’t quite the Fashionable Hour, but there were riders and people enough around the park. The four companions seemed content enough to ride along in silence interspersed with the occasional comment, enjoying the sunny weather. Stark rested his elbow on the side of the sociable casually, twisted slightly to face Loki beside him, and Lady Jane devoted her attention to the people around her, occasionally waving in greeting to passersby – far more than Loki had expected her to know. He’d assumed she didn’t move in society much.

‘How long have you been in London, Lady Jane?’ he queried casually.

‘A few months,’ she answered. ‘Uncle Erik and I travelled down with Bruce from Denmark; we stayed with my aunt in Essex before coming to London. We were waiting to hear from Tony that he’d arrived safely before turning up – otherwise we’d have had to look for alternative accommodation.’

‘You were in Denmark?’ Thor interrupted, turning towards Lady Jane. ‘Is that where you lived?’

‘We were doing research,’ Lady Jane explained, frowning minutely for a brief moment as if trying to work out whether Thor’s comment had been negatively meant. Loki could have assured her it wasn’t, amused to find that Thor seemed so uncomfortable around her.

‘You mentioned your aunt?’ Loki steered the conversation back to his original path – namely determining information about this odd woman who shared Stark’s house.

‘Aunt Phillipa, yes. She was my father’s sister, but didn’t join my parents in London Society for the short time they were here.’

It was Loki’s turn to frown. ‘I seem to recall a Lord Nigel and Grace Foster…’ he trailed off as the source of the names came to him: a boating accident on the Thames, where several people had drowned. Lady Jane would have been around nine at the time if his assumption on her age was correct. Loki had been a teenage boy, and could recall his mother’s sympathetic comments on the matter. They’d not run in the same circles at all, but their name had been respectable by Society’s standards at any rate.

Lady Jane smiled somewhat sadly, but did not seem offended by mention of her parents. ‘It’s in the past. I ended up with Uncle Erik after that.’

‘Not your aunt? I’d have thought she would have been a more suitable choice of guardian.’

She folded her hands on her lap demurely, saying in a somewhat mournful tone, ‘I believe I was too much of a handful for her.’ Loki wasn’t fooled in the least, for the laughter had returned to her eyes and her lips were twitching with suppressed humour.

Loki opened his mouth to ask another question when Stark leant forwards.

‘Jane, I think I see Darcy waving at you.’ He motioned to the left where indeed a few hundred yards away a young woman was waving rather enthusiastically at the carriage, so much so her bonnet toppled right off her head leaving waves of brown hair to spill down her back; her companion, an older woman, stepped forward to rebuke her, tugging on her arm rather sharply. Loki could imagine well the comments she had on that kind of display.

Lady Jane giggled cheerfully, making only a token effort to try and hide her smile behind a gloved hand. ‘Oh dear, she’s with Mrs Gilmour today; no wonder she seems keen to get somebody’s – anybody’s – attention. I’d better go see if she’s all right. Mr Yew, please stop the carriage,’ she called to the driver.

The driver pulled the sociable over to the side of the path, and Lady Jane opened the door and jumped down the steps without waiting for assistance, and proceeded towards her friend at a brisk stride.

‘Should we accompany her?’ Thor asked, ever one to point out the proper thing to do; gentlemen did not let ladies go traipsing about on their own.

‘By all means, feel free to do so,’ Loki told him, having no intention of leaving the carriage. He’d seen the look on Stark’s face when he’d interrupted his questioning of Lady Jane and knew the other man would have a few words to say to him. The sentiment he could likely determine, but he was interested in hearing the words.

Stark remained silent as Thor left the carriage and started after Lady Jane, but as soon as they were outside of earshot, he faced Loki, his posture relaxed but his expression hard and his eyes suddenly very cool. ‘If you have comments to make about Jane, I suggest you direct them at me; neither she nor I appreciate your attempts at interrogation.’

Loki took a brief moment to decide whether truth or deception was his best option, but determined that it would be ungracious to persist in falsities once discovered. ‘I was attempting subtlety,’ he offered.

‘Neither of us is stupid,’ Stark rejoined, ‘although I’m questioning your intelligence if you haven’t realised that following this morning. And although Jane can certainly stand up for herself, I’m not going to sit here and listen to you make snide comments about her family nor disparage her reputation to her face.’

Loki chose to ignore the insult to him, but acknowledged the aspersions on his motives for questioning Lady Jane, because of course he had in fact been angling at uncovering the kind of person who was staying in Stark’s home in such a manner. ‘The situation is strange; it is bound to raise questions,’ he pointed out. ‘An unmarried young woman, living in a home with three men, especially with your reputation… what do you expect people to think?’

‘I expect people to mind their own business!’ Stark said sharply, before sitting back with a disgruntled sigh. ‘Our living and working circumstances are somewhat on the unusual side; it’s just who and how we are, and Jane’s had an unconventional upbringing. There are parts of society that won’t accept her for it, but she doesn’t care about that. She knows what she wants, and won’t apologise for it – or herself, and she doesn’t need to. She’s one of the most remarkable women I know, and a damn sight better than most of the simpering misses that grace Almack’s I assure you.’ He narrowed his eyes in warning. ‘As for her reputation, there’s nothing untoward going on in that house as far as Jane is concerned. Her reputation is eccentric, but upheld.’

Loki digested that impassioned speech with more ease than he’d thought he’d be able to manage. Stark clearly had a high regard for Lady Jane, and even Loki could admit the truth in his comments: Lady Jane showed intelligence and maturity far beyond most of society’s young debutantes, and had a warm genuineness to her which already enticed Loki to like her – and clearly Thor too. His interrogation, as Stark had put it, had been born from those ingrained concerns about reputation, and status, the rules that determine the worthy from the unworthy.

He believed Stark’s confirmation of her reputation; his conviction in her scandalous behaviour had been a passing fancy at best, and he let it fade away willingly. ‘I meant no offence,’ he apologised at last.

Stark snorted, but seem slightly more mollified. ‘Sure you did, same with your suspicions of me when we first met. I get it – you have a thing about protecting your brother, and he’s taken a liking to me, and now Jane.’

Loki blinked. ‘I hadn’t thought you’d noticed,’ he commented, and it was not Thor he was referring to.

Stark shot him a considering look. ‘I notice a lot more than most people think I do,’ he said, and Loki wondered if there was a hidden meaning to his words.

He thought of the night he’d brought Stark back to his house, his hands touching the scars on Stark’s chest.

He turned his face away to hide his sudden discomfort.

Further conversation was prevented by Thor and Lady Jane’s return, the two happily chatting. Lady Jane appeared to be telling him stories about the intimidating Mrs Gilmour – who it turned out was a governess to Miss Darcy Lewis, Lady Jane’s friend, and a governess of The Old Ways, as Lady Jane put it with an feigned shudder.

If Miss Lewis was in any way like Lady Jane, Loki wasn’t surprised at her parents’ choice of governess.

They continued on their carriage ride, earlier awkwardness forgotten, and Loki’s questioning put to rest. Conversation flowed, topics shifting between the project, unusual facts and tales of London, and stories of misbehaving children. They weren’t perhaps the topics considered most appropriate for a weekday carriage ride, but Loki had come to accept the eccentricity by then.

Stark did not seem to maintain a grudge against Loki, and had instead returned to his role as charming host; Loki would not forget the other sides to him he had seen.

He found himself slightly disappointed when the afternoon came to an end, and they were all deposited once again at Stark’s house, waiting for their own vehicle to be fetched to return them home.

Thor and Lady Jane were still engaged in animated discussion by the front door, while Stark seemed content to wait with Loki on the pavement, standing easily with his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

Loki glanced away, a puzzled crease appearing along his forehead.

‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Stark teased, none of his former antagonism in sight. Whether he’d actually let it go fully, it was hard to tell, but he seemed willing to look past it.

Loki debated sharing his thoughts, but finally concluded it would do no harm. ‘You have surprised me more than once today,’ he admitted slowly.

Stark gave a quick, boyish grin. ‘You make it sound like the worst kind of fate.’

‘It it not something which happens often,’ Loki confessed.

‘Want to tell me what I did?’ the other man asked curiously.

Loki gave a sharp smile. ‘Perhaps another time,’ he evaded, then raised his voice to call for his brother as their carriage rolled to a stop before him. ‘Thor! Let’s go.’

 

* * *

 

Stark’s observations proved correct.

Thor had indeed taken a shine to Lady Jane, and in the two weeks that followed, he contrived to spend as much time in her company as polite society allowed. His visits to Stark’s house became more frequent, the accepted fifteen minutes to call lengthened into twenty, thirty, sixty. He used the pretext of interest in Stark’s project to join their group, thus putting himself into close proximity to the fair lady.

He had yet to step into the territory of overt courting, and for now their interactions were witnessed solely by a very small, specific set, but even in such a short time Lady Jane’s effect on Thor was pronounced.

His brashness gave way to a much sweeter temper; his childish mockery and insults were traded for insightful conversations; his boisterous ways were soothed by calmer pursuits.

He looked happier than Loki had seen him in a long time.

Lady Jane did not conform to womanly stereotypes or expectations, and that more than anything served to keep Thor off balance – and intrigued.

For all his reservations about the Lady upon first meeting, Loki found he could bear her no ill will, not when he could see the light shine in his brother’s eyes when he looked upon her.

Not when Thor’s visits to her allowed him to stay close to the object of his own desires.

For all his self-recriminations and sterns talks, he found that his want for the American inventor remained. The man was intelligent, well-read, he had a witty mouth and sharp sense of humour; he was charming, popular, a handsome man and physically fit; and yet there were hidden depths to him in which Loki longed to plunge, bury himself, smother himself until nothing else remained.

At times looking at him made his teeth physically ache with the desire to own him, to claim him.

There had only been one other Loki had ever desired with such fierce wanting.

He pushed the thought aside with the ease of long practice, alighting the steps to Stark’s mansion and being ushered inside by Jarvis now with familiarity.

Stark had invited them to attend a charity concert that evening. Thor, who had already been engaged in town, was due to meet them there, but Tony had invited Loki to ride with him and Lady Jane.

‘Are they ready?’ Loki asked Jarvis as he paused in the entrance hall to hand his hat and gloves to the butler.

‘I believe it will only be a few moments more. Mister Stark bade me tell you that you are welcome to join him upstairs as he finishes preparations.’

Jarvis’ tone gave nothing away, and Loki took a long glance at him as he formulated an answer. It wasn’t exactly a common request, but he had learned in the last few weeks that there was little common about Stark.

‘Thank you, I will,’ he said at last and made his slow way up the stairs towards Stark’s bedroom. Frequent visits had given him familiarity with the layout of the house, and he found Stark’s room with ease, giving a light knock on the door to announce his arrival.

‘Stark?’ he called.

‘Come on in,’ came the reply, slightly muffled by the door.

Loki pushed the door open and entered Stark’s room, noting the dark coloured wooden furniture, a contrast to the red and gold patterned wallpaper.

‘No need to guess your favourite colours,’ he commented.

Stark, currently standing in front of a dressing table choosing accessories from a box, glanced over his shoulder and snorted. ‘Likewise,’ he retorted, nodding towards Loki’s green and silver scarf before turning back to the table.

Almost against his will, Loki’s eyes traced over the lines of Stark’s back, over the curved buttocks and down the legs. When he glanced up again, he found his eyes locked with Stark’s in the mirror; the other man was watching him with an unreadable expression.

‘See something you like?’

Loki forced a smile. ‘I was simply admiring the cut of your suit; you must compliment your tailor when next you see him.’

Stark held his gaze for a moment longer before his face relaxed and he looked away. ‘I’ll do that.’

Selecting the cufflinks and tie-pin for his outfit, Stark fitted them to his outfit. With a last brush of his hand through his hair, he nodded that he was ready, and for Loki to precede him from the room. The waited in the entrance hall for Lady Jane to join them, which she did a few moments later, looking resplendent in an ivory evening gown with robin’s egg blue trimming and accessories. She greeted both of them pleasantly and allowed Stark to hand her wrap to her.

With the carriage ready and waiting, and the relatively short journey to the theatre, the trio met with Thor at Lady Astrid’s house and in no time were joined by their usual companions. Drinks were fetched and the group mingled with their peers in the large dancing room while they waited for the call to make their way to the garden for the performance.

A bell announced the orchestra were ready and the crowd, some two hundred odd, proceeded to the garden and the seats laid out for them before the small stage that had been erected for the orchestra. The entire garden had been decked out with lanterns and delicate paper streamers, and the effect was rather festive.

Loki took his seat beside Thor, and was inwardly pleased when Stark came to sit beside him. Stark appeared at ease, as he did in most situations, one leg crossed casually over the other, his hands settled demurely in his lap. His fingers tapped absently against his thigh.

Loki leaned forward to ask quietly, ‘Do you enjoy music?’

Stark bent his head close also, turning his face to Loki to answer; the earthy scent of his cologne tickled Loki’s nose enticingly.

‘I do, actually. Music can be very mathematical, if you think about it, and that pleases me. I admit my preference doesn’t necessarily lie in classical composition. The world offers a great variety if you have the time and means to seek it out.’

‘Oh?’

‘I found my time in the South Americas very compelling,’ he explained. ‘They sing and play with their very souls, and have a fondness for drums. It stirs the blood and gets the heart pumping.’ He smiled wickedly, and Loki’s breath caught. ‘What about you?’ Stark asked.

Loki cleared his throat. ‘I learned the pianoforte from my mother.’

The conversation ceased once the music started. The choices were the usual fare, the most popular pieces of the time interspersed with a few less common pieces – all pleasant enough, but Loki found himself thinking of Stark’s words about other kinds of music, and his interest in that far superseded any enthusiasm for the evening. It was just as well the set was only an hour long and the guests were then invited to partake in the buffet that had been laid out along tables in the garden.

While Thor ushered Lady Jane and Stark towards a bench to one side, Loki excused himself to use the facilities. He made his way past guests grouped together in conversation and into the house. A familiar laugh across the room caught his immediate attention and his eyes shot towards the couple stood greeting the hostess; the man was tall and broad-shouldered, a neatly clipped moustache framing his mouth. His grey suit matched his eyes, and was a contrast to the sparking white dress the petite blond beside him wore. They were turned away, and Loki gave into his instinct to hide from view, stepping into the garden once more and finding a shadowed alcove nearby in which to gather his composure.

Recognition caused an unpleasant ache in his belly, and he pressed a hand against it in an attempt to ease the sensation.

It had been almost ten years since he had seen Svadilfari, and although now grown into a man, and clearly married, he still resembled the young man that Loki had been so enraptured with during that summer of adventure when boys were on the cusp of manhood, when friendship and banter was mistaken for something other than what it was.

_“I want you…I love you.”_

_An expression of disgust – “Get away from me!”_

Heartfelt confession turned into humiliation, and the burn of that rejection had remained a long time. It was only later that Loki had come to realise how much worse things could have been. Out of his own shame, Svadilfari had told no one of Loki’s confession, thus allowing his desires to remain secret.

He had also taught Loki the valuable lesson to assume nothing when it came to others lest infatuation lead once again to a broken heart.

His hand slipped from his stomach, and he took a fortifying breath, the moment passed. He felt almost scornful at his own weakness, but allowed that it had been a shock to see the other man again after so long, and as long as he presented no discomposure now, no one need ever know of his momentary lapse.

In fact…

Before he could reconsider, Loki stepped inside the house again, and deliberately walked towards the couple who were just now finishing their conversation with Lady Astrid. Svadilfari turned first, spying Loki’s approach; he froze, the social niceties leaving him trapped, unable to cut Loki due to the latter’s higher prestige, and unable to pretend he had not seen him. He remained in an awkward stance until Loki came before them, his arm around his wife tightening ever so slightly.

‘On my word, I had not thought to see you after so many years,’ Loki began, his voice lilting and deceptively friendly. ‘Svadilfari, as I live and breathe – and this your lovely wife I presume?’

Svadilfari’s expression was slightly pained as he made the unwanted introductions. ‘This is Hester, my wife; Hester, this is Loki Aesir, son of the Earl of Asgard.’

Loki noted the slight, but he refrained from comment.

Hester smiled at Loki pleasantly, reaching out with her hand for Loki to kiss lightly, unaware of the tension between her husband and Loki. ‘A pleasure; I don’t believe I have heard your name mentioned before.’

‘We are friends of old,’ Loki explained, ‘and it has been many years.’

‘How charming that you have come to meet again,’ Hester said delightfully. ‘Perhaps you should dine with us -’

‘Hester, dear,’ Svadilfari cut her off abruptly, ‘would you please excuse us a moment. I believe your cousin is outside enjoying the air – I will find you with them shortly.’ His tone was gentle enough, but the order was clear.

Hester’s blue eyes showed confusion as she glanced between the two men, but gamely she smiled politely and executed a small curtsey. ‘Of course. Please excuse me.’

Loki watched her go before returning his attention to Svadilfari, whose expression had turned unpleasant. ‘Stay away from my wife, Aesir.’

Loki raised his brow in feigned surprise and lifted a hand to his chest. ‘You wound me – such a formal address for an old friend, and to think I would be any risk to your wife. I’m appalled.’

Svadilfari snorted derisively, his eyes scanning the room behind Loki. Loki trusted he would ensure no one came close enough to hear them.

Svadilfari continued, ‘We both know where your perversions lie. I made myself perfectly clear. Haven’t you found someone else yet to throw yourself on? Like a desperate kitten mewling for attention, you are tiresome.’

Loki stepped forward, into Svadilfari’s personal space and felt satisfaction as the other man attempted to hide his discomfort. He put his lips close to Svadilfari’s ear and all but purred, ‘Once a kitten, perhaps, but I think you’ll find the kitten all grown up now, with sharp claws and teeth to match.’ Svadilfari flinched, and Loki stepped away, baring white teeth in a smile that was distinctly unfriendly. ‘London is my city. You would do well not to challenge me here.’

He did not wait for a response, as Svadilfari’s mulish expression and wary eyes were confirmation enough that he would not act against him.

‘Still a coward,’ Loki sneered softly and turned on his heel, leaving his one time infatuation behind.

Let it be put to rest now, he thought to himself as he stepped outside and took a breath of the fresh evening air, let the soft chatter and music wash over him and bring him a measure of calm.

He had been a boy, but now he was a man, and he knew far better now.

And still…

He caught sight of Tony Stark, and Svadilfari faded from his mind like mist in the sun. Stark stood at the centre of a small crowd, the light of the suspended lanterns shining off his face and his slick-backed hair, that white smile surrounded by his dark beard, those dark expressive eyes of his.

His heart gave a sudden sharp thump, and he felt his lips and fingertips tingle with the urge to touch the other.

A man now, but it seemed he had learned nothing at all.

 

* * *

 

As evenings went, Tony would call it more or less a success. The company had been pleasant, the drink plentiful, and he hadn’t made a fool of himself, so there were bonus points. Still, as he climbed the steps to his front door, he felt unsettled.

The house was still and quiet when he entered, the ever-dependable Jarvis on one of his infrequent nights off. The man thrived off his job, Tony was sure, leeching energy and life from dustless windowsills, neatly polished candlesticks and perfectly aligned cutlery. For all Tony thought it bizarre, he supposed he wouldn’t have got far in life without his manservant-cum-butler-cum-all round general useful person.

Not ready to take to his bed yet, Tony made his way down to the kitchen in search of the wine-cellar where he hoped to find something to entice him and hopefully lull him into sleep.

Rummaging around, he found a bottle to his taste, one of the Californian wines he’d brought with him from the Americas, and bottle tucked under one arm, he hunted around the kitchen for a glass.

‘Top shelf, cupboard on the far left,’ a voice advised behind him.

Following the instructions, he pulled out a wine glass with a flourish, turning round to nod his thanks to Bruce. ‘I’m surprised you know the layout of the kitchen,’ he commented.

‘I’m surprised you don’t,’ Bruce retorted from the doorway, then shook his head with a smile, ‘actually, I take that back. I’d give you a week on your own.’

Tony pouted as he plonked himself down at the kitchen table, swinging his legs over the bench, setting the bottle and glass on the table in front of him. He motioned for Bruce to join him, and the other man did so, sitting down at the table with more grace than Tony had managed.

Tony did not offer him the drink; he knew well his friend’s demons. Instead he poured for himself, and took a sip of the deep coloured wine.

‘Couldn’t sleep?’ he asked softly, noting the dark smudges under Bruce’s eyes and the tired lines on his face.

Bruce met his eyes, and they were weary, yes, but calm. ‘Only on the bad nights,’ he reassured him.

Tony accepted the statement for what it was; they all had their bad nights, over the years and still now. He trusted that Bruce would come to him if his need was too great, if he began to slip, so that Tony could help him just as he had been helped in his darker moments.

Bruce titled his head. ‘What about you – what’s keeping the great Tony Stark awake?’

Tony let out an exaggerated sigh and slumped forward onto his arms. ‘Don’t know,’ he muttered.

Bruce’s expression was amused. ‘How come I doubt that?’ he replied, and leaned forward on one elbow to peer at Tony. ‘It can’t be the project, as that’s all in hand and well on its way to completion. We’ve worked hard on it, and soon we should see results.’

‘No, it’s not that.’

‘Is it London society? I thought your entrance into the ton was going well, and you’d have said if there were any problems with business….’ He trailed off musingly. ‘Tell me,’ he cajoled.

Tony sighed and raised his head from his slumped position, propping himself up inelegantly with one arm.

‘What do you make of Loki?’

‘Ah,’ Bruce let out a little sigh, his brown eyes filling with understanding. It was sometimes a relief to have someone who could read him so well. ‘Has the youngest Aesir caught your eye?’

Tony quirked his lips downwards, unwilling to answer straight away. The truth was that, yes, Loki had indeed caught his eyes, but for the life of him he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Tony was far from a stranger when it came to attraction and pleasures of the flesh, and he indulged himself as often as he felt the need. His partners, whether female or male, had to be attractive, clever, and have a certain extra _something_.

Loki had that _something_ in spades.

‘I find him…interesting,’ he answered Bruce at last, and it felt like such a poor definition of his feelings, but at the same time all he could currently use to express it.

‘And does Loki return your interest?’ Bruce queried.

‘That’s what I’m not sure about,’ Tony complained.

‘You’re hardly a shrinking violet,’ Bruce pointed out with a tinge of humour. ‘What’s stopping you from finding out?’

Tony took a sip of his wine as he tried to determine exactly that.

Normally Tony found it easy to determine other people’s interest in him, but with Loki it was frustratingly difficult. He would catch the other man’s gaze upon him and for a split second he was sure he could see desire, but then it would be carefully blanked away, like a mask falling over the other’s face. He was also sure that earlier that evening once again Loki had been admiring his physical form, and too, he had managed to wrangle from Jarvis the tale of that night Loki had brought him home. All together it presented an intriguing possibility, and yet… Tony wavered in his certainty of Loki’s interest in him, and it served to leave him at an impasse in how to proceed.

To act and potentially disturb a new friendship, and his connection with the group he had found himself in? Or to let it go, and perhaps miss out on something which could potentially be magnificent?

‘There never seems to be the right time, or it’s never the right place,’ he concluded at last.

Bruce looked surprised. ‘I’ve never pictured you as someone to let something like that stop you. If the opportunity doesn’t exist, then make one.’

Tony glanced at him in consideration, almost as if the prospect hadn’t occurred. A slow smile spread across his face. ‘Maybe I’ll do just that.’

 

* * *

 

 

‘Loki, I’ve been looking for you,’ Thor announced as he entered the breakfast room, a piece of paper in his hand. 

Loki raised an eyebrow and glanced pointedly around the room. ‘It is breakfast time, Thor, and I am in the breakfast room, having, well, _breakfast_. I am not sure where else you expected to find me.’

Thor rolled his eyes. ‘It’s too early for your insults, brother; I ask that you cease.’

Loki chuckled. ‘All right, Thor. Now what did you wish to ask me?’

‘I have received an invitation from Anthony. He would like us to accompany him down to Brighton for a long weekend.’

Loki carefully sliced his egg and ham as he considered this. ‘It’s too early for the Brighton season; why would he suggest a trip now?’

Thor shrugged, clearly uninterested in Stark’s motivations. ‘Perhaps he does not wish to experience the crowds when going later?’ he suggested. ‘The idea appeals – say you will come?’ he enticed.

‘Who else is invited?’ Loki asked casually.

‘Barton and Miss Romanoff, Captain Rogers, Lady Jane, Dr Banner, and ourselves.’

‘A pretty little gathering,’ Loki mused, half to Thor, half to himself. It was just enough appropriateness with Dr Banner to act as guardian to Lady Jane, and the affianced Natasha as a chaperone. Not that the majority of those going would put much mind to lack of propriety, Stark especially, but there was still the veneer of it, which is all that mattered.

As for Stark’s motives for the out of season trip, Loki was unsure, but there appeared only one way to discover it.

He turned to face Thor, wiping his mouth delicately with a napkin. ‘You may tell Stark I would be glad to join the party.’

 

* * *

 

The following week they were due to travel down to Brighton dawned bright and sunny and those invited gathered at Tony’s house in preparation of the travel. As the host, Tony was planning to spare no expense and had ordered three coaches for the trip, two for guests, and the third for servants and their luggage. The three coaches were lined outside his house while his staff bustled around under the authoritative eyes of Jarvis. 

Those arriving were in good spirits, Thor enthusiastically greeting Tony and Bruce and Jane, and even Loki appeared to be looking forward to the trip, albeit in a quieter manner. Barton and Natasha greeted everyone warmly, and only Rogers seemed a little reserved – but this appeared to be his standard setting, so Tony didn’t pay it much mind.

While Jarvis finalised the travel arrangements with Yew, who would be in charge of the coaches, and giving last minute tips for Dumez, who would be acting as aide to all during the trip, Tony directed his guests into the carriages and their carefully selected seating.

It was natural for Barton, Natasha, Jane and Thor to take one carriage. Rogers had chosen to test his new mount during the travel, which left Tony, Loki and Bruce in the other carriage, much to Tony’s carefully concealed satisfaction.

They all took their respective places, Loki giving a snort of laughter at the wine-coloured velvet seats, which Tony manfully ignored. Everyone was allowed a favourite colour.

Once settled, it was only a few minutes before they were on their way, Jarvis uttering a plaintive ‘Please try not to get into too much trouble, sir,’ through the window as they pulled away.

In the second carriage, Tony made himself comfortable beside Loki and stared pointedly at Bruce. The scientist took one look at Tony and Loki opposite him, then gave a small put-upon sigh as he tipped his hat over his eyes and settled back against the seat with his arms crossed over his chest. ‘Trust me, it’s like I’m not even here.’

Tony could have kissed him.

It wasn’t complete privacy, but it was certainly as good as, and it meant he could begin his attempts to woo the youngest Aesir.

He leaned back casually against the seat, stretching his legs out and resting one arm against the window. The jostle of the carriage let his leg brush against Loki’s, and Tony couldn’t have planned it any better.

‘So,’ he drawled, titling his head to the side to catch Loki’s eye, ‘what d’you want to talk about?’

Loki smirked. ‘And if I do not wish to talk?’

Tony didn’t exactly pout, but it was close. ‘It’s a very long ride, and I don’t do well with boredom. I’d probably have to resort to quite drastic attention-seeking methods.’

‘Then for the good of us all, I’d better comply,’ Loki teased, and relaxed further into his seat. ‘Why Brighton?’

Tony wondered why Loki was curious about that, but he’d requested conversation, and was happy to follow Loki’s lead. ‘I’ve not been, and I felt like getting away from London for a while,’ he replied simply. ‘Besides, I hear it’s the place to go.’

‘It is more conventional to go _after_ the season ends,’ Loki pointed out.

Tony grinned unashamedly. ‘I’m not exactly one to follow conventions.’

Loki shook his head, smiling softly, his green eyes warm as they met Tony’s. ‘Yes, that is certainly one thing I’ve noticed about you, Stark.’

Tony gave Loki a gentle nudge with his elbow. ‘You could call me by my given name, you know. I think we’re friends enough for that.’

‘All right then, Anthony.’

He made a face. ‘Tony, please,’ he corrected. ‘It sounds far less… _formal_. I don’t believe in formalities between friends – people wear their public faces for so long, I think sometimes they forget who they really are. Among friends, I think one should be free to show their true colours.’

Loki gave him a considering look, before he said, ‘Not all would agree with you, nor indulge you,’ he paused, ‘but I suppose I must now count myself among them… Tony.’

His name in that low, articulate voice sounded strangely sensual, and Tony was pleased with even such a small amount of progress for now.

‘I noticed your ring,’ he changed the subject abruptly, motioning towards Loki’s left hand, where an intricate gold signet ring adorned his ring finger. ‘May I?’ he asked politely.

Loki made as if to pull the ring from his finger, but Tony was having none of that, and instead grasped his hand and pulled it closer to him, keeping his long fingers cupped within his palms as he peered closely at the ring. The design was of a many-branched tree surrounded by an ouroboros.

Tony circled the twisting snake with a finger-tip, and felt Loki’s finger clench reflexively as skin brushed against skin.

‘What it is?’

‘It was my grandfather Fjorgynn’s,’ Loki explained, ‘my mother’s father. He was a keen philosopher, very interested in ideas of the world and eternity. I remember some of the stories he used to tell me when I was a child, of a tree made of worlds and a giant snake that encircled the earth…’ he trailed off, his own gaze resting upon his ring, clearly recalling fond memories.

Tony didn’t have a heart to utter some of the childish comments that immediately came to mind, comments of science versus philosophy, and instead just commented, ‘It’s a beautiful ring,’ before releasing Loki’s hand.

The other man rubbed his fingers thoughtfully, but Tony couldn’t decipher what might be occupying his mind.

After a moment, Loki shook off whatever distraction had come upon him, and turned to Tony once more. ‘Tell me of America,’ he prompted.

This was something Tony could easily do, and he fell easily into the role of story-teller, anecdotes and banter mixed with glimpses of his genuine thoughts. Loki was a good conversational companion, and appeared interested in the tales of Tony’s adventures, both as man and child, and they traded stories for the rest of the morning.

 

* * *

 

At midday, the carriages stopped at a roadside tavern midway between London to Brighton for lunch. Despite the comfort of Tony’s carriages, everyone was eager for some fresh air and chance to stretch their legs. The lunch was adequate, not ostentatious, but certainly filling, and more than one bottle of wine was shared around. When the carriages set off once more, Rogers joined them also, happy to give riding a rest for the time being. 

Conversation turned to more universal topics, and although Tony regretted not being able to give Loki his undivided attention, he enjoyed the company and the idle chatter that ranged from the scientific to the military.

At one point he and Rogers fell into an in-depth discussion on the intricacies of modern weapon-fare; Loki gave him a considering look, and Tony recalled that Loki perhaps wasn’t aware of his history. For once, Tony didn’t feel that instinctive rush of shame when he remembered who he used to be; something told him Loki had his own dark secrets.

They arrived in Brighton in early evening-time, and the coaches were navigated down the streets to The King’s Hotel where Tony had booked them rooms for their stay.

He glanced out the window as they passed, noting the distinctive architecture. The smell of sea air wafted into the carriage the closer they got to the pier. Tony found it soothing; he had always been comfortable by the sea.

When they arrived at the hotel, they quickly dispersed to their individual rooms while their luggage was unloaded by the porters, agreeing to meet again in two hours for dinner.

Tony inspected his room, and deemed it adequate to his needs; perhaps a bit ostentatious in design, with a few too many patterns for his liking, but there was a big bed, an en suite bathroom, and a small sitting area where the hotel had generously provided a tray of fruits and an ice bucket of champagne. Tony would help himself to that later, but for now contented himself with nibbling on a few grapes.

He wandered over the large windows and gazed outside. From their location, he had a good view of the streets below, and in the not so far distance, a glimpse of the sea. It lacked the bustle of London, and yet there was still something of a feel to the place similar to the city. After almost half a life time spent in New York, and travelling other great cities, this town seemed quaint to the great Tony Stark, but that had been his intention.

It would suit his needs just fine.

 

* * *

 

They had discussed their plans for the day during dinner the evening before, and so the next morning the party gathered and set out for the Royal Pavillion, which was near to completion according to the hotel manager, and quite a sight to see. It wasn’t far and the weather was pleasant, so they elected to walk the short distance, the ladies walking ahead arm in arm, with their entourage of gentlemen behind. 

Loki felt odd to find himself among such a group. Although position and standing necessitated he socialise and spend more time with people than he otherwise might have done, by nature he was not a social creature. And yet he marvelled at how easy it felt to be in the company of these few individuals, how he did not feel the need to be on guard at all times. It was…unexpected.

‘Woo-eee,’ Clint exclaimed with an admiring whistle, and Loki turned his attention to the large building that had appeared in view. His eyebrows rose of their own accord and he struggled to put his feelings into an appropriate response to the Indian-inspired domes and spires and glass windows that stretched out before him.

‘It’s certainly an impressive piece of architecture,’ Dr Banner was saying, ‘although I don’t know whether the price of it is worth it – over five hundred thousand pounds,’ he revealed.

Stark - or Tony, as he had now requested to be called – gave a derogatory snort. ‘For that amount, I could do far better than this.’

Absently, Loki wondered what kind of home Tony might build for himself; the house in London was the standard fare, not of his own design, and had little of Tony’s personality. Loki wondered if Tony had a house somewhere in America that he had designed himself, that he called a home. It unsettled him, the thought that there were parts of Tony that he was unlikely ever to see.

‘What do you think he’ll use it for?’ Lady Jane was asking, and it distracted Loki from his thoughts.

‘I presume he means to live in it,’ Rogers answered her, although he sounded uncertain; the chances were even as to whether it was uncertainty over the King’s plans, or over Rogers’ doubt that anyone would care to live in such a building.

‘Do you think we could go inside?’ Lady Jane continued, glancing to Thor with visible enthusiasm.

The tall blond immediately appeared uncertain, but suggested gamely enough, ‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask…?’ He looked to Loki for assistance, and Loki rolled his eyes, once again finding himself the rescuer.

‘Follow me.’

In the end it was a simple endeavour; the name of Asgard went halfway to persuading the staff of the grand house, and a generous bribe from Tony took care of the rest. They were ushered inside and offered a guided tour, which they graciously accepted.

If the outside had been eye-catching, the inside was more so, a veritable display of opulence and style with decorations and furnishings on which no expense had been spared. It was not exactly to Loki’s taste, but he could certainly admire pieces as they passed.

In one room, his attention was caught by a polished statue of a nude warrior in Grecian style. He narrowly avoided flinching when he felt another person brush close to his shoulder, and then he heard Tony’s low American drawl say ‘There’s something so compelling about the male form, don’t you think?’

Loki turned his head to the right, eyeing Tony as he formulated a reply. The man’s eyes were bright, but Loki could not detect the source. His immediate thought was whether he had done something to give himself away – something _more_ at any rate, but there was no malice in the other man’s tone or expression. ‘The art style is well executed,’ he settled on neutrally.

‘Yes, that too, ‘Tony grinned, a quick delighted baring of teeth that still seemed to allude to hidden thoughts, and then he was walking away, leaving Loki to ponder the subtext of that short exchange.

When they had completed a circuit of all the rooms they had been permitted to enter and gardens, the group departed in high spirits, debating on the order of their afternoon’s activities.

‘I could just _die_ for an ice on the beach,’ Lady Jane proclaimed, fanning her slightly flushed face with a lace-gloved hand. ‘Natasha, please say you agree it’s just the thing? They won’t say no if we join forces,’ she explained in a conspiratorial whisper that was nonetheless heard by the entire party.

Natasha gave out a bark of amused laughter. ‘I wonder how men can think they’re in charge at all?’ she said, linking arms with Lady Jane and steering her towards the beach. ‘Come boys!’ she called.

Clint let out an exaggerated sigh. ‘I can’t think who is the worse influence on the other.’

It was the middle of the day and off-season, so it wasn’t difficult to find a stretch of beach where the only other occupants were mere tiny figures in the distance. The beach was gloriously sandy, the sea an indulgent blue, and the smell of the salty air blew in gentle breezes towards them.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Lady Jane enthused.

The others agreed, some aloud and some silently, like Loki, who just breathed in the fresh air and felt some unnoticed tension ease from his limbs.

‘I recall a request for some ices,’ Rogers prompted. ‘May I do the honours?’

‘Ooh, lemon if they have it!’ Lady Jane asked.

‘Raspberry for me,’ Natasha placed her own order.

‘And me,’ Clint chimed in.

Rogers looked a little lost and began patting his pockets. ‘I might need to write this down….’

Dr Banner came to the rescue, fishing out a small notepad and pencil, giving a shrug when the others looked at him quizzically. ‘I’m a scientist.’

With the orders all in and almost the whole party deciding to indulge, Thor suggested, ‘I think you will need company, Steven.’

‘Please,’ Rogers smiled sheepishly and the two men set off along the sand.

When they were out of earshot, Lady Jane uttered a relieved sound. ‘Thank goodness. They were the two most likely to have heart attacks when I did this.’ She promptly bent down and began unlacing her kid walking boots, yanking them off, followed quickly by her stockings. When her feet were bare, she wiggled her toes in the sand with a pleased smile.

‘Jane! What scandalous behaviour!’ Tony admonished with false disapproval.

Lady Jane arched a disbelieving eyebrow at him. ‘You forget - I live in your house. If you think _I’m_ scandalous, I don’t know what that makes you.’

‘Positively wicked, I hope,’ was Tony’s rejoinder.

Meanwhile, Natasha had decided to follow Lady Jane’s example, much to Clint’s fond resignation. ‘I suppose I’d best play watch…’ He gave a last glance to his fiancée who’d begun to follow Lady Jane towards the water’s edge and followed in the direction the other two had gone, finding himself a small grassy verge on the edge of beach and road to perch on.

That left Tony, Loki and Dr Banner.

Tony turned towards Loki. ‘And do we get to see your lovely ankles?’ He ran his eyes obviously down Loki’s body and up again, before giving a wink. ‘Ladies, wait for me,’ he called and left Loki standing confused beside Dr Banner.

He didn’t know what to make of Tony’s comments. It felt like mockery, and yet not maliciously done; it felt like a shared secret, but that couldn’t be it, surely…?

Some of his confusion must have shown on his face, because Dr Banner stepped closer to him and said, ‘If I can offer you some advice? When it comes to Tony Stark, sometimes what it appears to be is exactly what it is.’

Loki considered the man, but his face was impassive, although his eyes held slight sympathy. Loki was not sure what to say to such a statement, and instead remained silent.

Dr Banner gave a small shrug. ‘There’s no obligation to believe me, or admit to anything.’

‘You make it sound like I have something to hide,’ Loki replied, and there was a hint of accusation in his voice.

Dr Banner shook his head, and said knowingly, ‘We _all_ have something to hide.’

He turned away from Loki then, looking out towards the sea, and Loki caught a glimpse of the finer elements of this man; quiet and unassuming, making it known he was available for advice and discussion, but allowing others to come to him rather than pursuing them.

Clever, Loki thought. Even he could feel the temptation to open up to this man, and in return perhaps get answers to some of his questions, but he had learned secrecy early on, and would not be so easily swayed.

He turned his attention to the water-edge, where Tony had discarded his shoes and rolled up the ends of his trousers, and had joined Lady Jane and Natasha; there seemed to be an inordinate amount of splashing produced in relation to their casual walking speed. Their bodies made pleasing silhouettes against the sand behind them, and Loki could hear their laughter.

It was a serene picture, and Loki found himself smiling gently.

After a short time, a cry of ‘Head’s up!’ came from Clint, and the three in the water splashed to the shore with a flurry of giggles and dripping water, quickly retrieving their stockings and shoes and slipping them on hastily. They’d just about managed when Thor and Steve came into view, laden down with the requested ices.

‘I am afraid some have suffered for the trip,’ Thor apologised, but his concern was dismissed as they all came forwards to take the proffered treats.

Loki licked at his, and felt the tingling of refreshing mint on his tongue.

Thor appeared to notice the slightly ruffled appearances of the others for the first time. ‘Lady Jane, you are wet!’ he announced with concern. ‘How did this happen?’

Lady Jane hid a smile behind her ice and gave a delicate shrug. ‘It must have been the wind carrying water off the sea.’

From the corner of his eye, Loki saw Dr Banner open his mouth to object to that clearly falsified explanation, and then simply close it again with a despairing shake of his head.

Thor remained unconvinced, but did not appear willing to call Lady Jane on her fib.

The group set off walking along the beach as they enjoyed their ices. Natasha and Lady Jane occasionally paused to pick up a shell or interesting stone that had washed up on the beach, and Thor walked between them with his hands cupped together, a willing bearer for their growing pile.

When they were finished with their ices and had tired of their walk, they returned to the hotel to change for the evening meal, a rather quiet affair so out of season. They had their pick of the menu, and the service was specifically tailored. Afterwards they had their choice of the hotel’s somewhat meagre amenities, and so they commandeered one of the smaller guest lounges for their use. It conveniently enough contained a pianoforte, and Natasha suggested an evening of music and songs, which the others ready acquiesced to.

She took her seat at the piano first, and began to rifle through the small selection of music sheets until she found one which suited, and adjusting her seat position slightly, she began to play while the others settled in seats around the room. It was a wistful piece, and the slightly tragic edge to it suited her husky voice. Loki wondered if there was some deeper meaning behind the choice of song, particularly when he noticed the glance that Natasha and Clint shared as she brought the piece to an end.

The following pieces were jauntier, and after two songs, Rogers was persuaded to accompany Natasha on the piano, which he did with some embarrassment; he needn’t have worried, as he had a surprisingly sweet voice and a musical ear. It was more than could be said for Thor when he decided to take part; his enthusiasm far outweighed his talent.

The activity went on into the evening, the singers and players taking turns, interspersed with stories and conversation. The ladies were the first to call an end to the evening, bidding good night to the gentlemen before retreating to their shared room. Dr Banner followed shortly afterwards, then Rogers. Thor and Clint lasted longer, but eventually they too left to find their beds.

Then, it was just Loki and Tony; Loki did not think it a coincidence.

Tony looked over from his seat, motioning upstairs with a tilt of his head. ‘Care to join me for a night cap?’ The man’s face was impassive, and Loki could not decipher anything from it.

For a moment, he debated the best course of action. Either he could join Tony upstairs in his rooms and potentially discover what game the American was playing, thus putting this whole thing to rest; or he could decline, in which case the chances of this repeating itself tomorrow and the coming days became exponentially greater.

‘Thank you, I will,’ he acquiesced.

He followed Tony through the hotel corridors to the other man’s room, waiting patiently as he unlocked the door to the suite and stepping inside when motioned through. The rooms were comfortable, much like his own, and he made his way easily to one of the arm chairs set close to the small fireplace.

Tony was glancing over the drinks selection, and asked ‘What do you fancy?’ without turning round.

‘You decide,’ Loki said disinterestedly. Alcohol was not the reason he had decided to join the other man here.

Tony shrugged and selected a decanter at random, hunting around for two glasses in which to pour the amber liquid; his actions were accompanied by the gentle clinking of fine glass. He offered one of the glasses to Loki, who took it without paying attention to what was in it; he sipped at the liquid, enjoying the burn of the richly flavoured alcohol. He’d never been one to seek out Dutch courage, but for once he felt in need of it.

‘Are you enjoying the trip?’ Tony asked casually; he’d wandered over to the chairs also, but remained standing, one hand holding his glass, the other in his pocket. His posture appeared relaxed, but there was something in his eyes that showed he was concentrating on something other than the conversation at hand.

‘I am, yes,’ Loki answered, ‘but there is one aspect I would wish you to clarify for me.’

‘Oh?’

Loki kept his eyes on Tony as he said: ‘I think it is time these games came to an end. You are sporting with me, and I will not accept being made the fool. Tell me the truth.’

Tony glanced away, setting his drink carefully on the small table beside him before returning his gaze to Loki. ‘The truth? Well, I’ve always been better at show than tell.’

With one stride he was before Loki, his hands coming to rest on the arms of his chair, caging him in, and then his mouth was pressed against Loki’s in a kiss that could be mistaken for nothing else.

Truth, indeed, and now Loki knew.

His drink fell from his hand, thumping against the floor, and then he was surging upwards, his hands gripping the sides of Tony’s face as he deepened the kiss, letting all his pent-up desire to the surface.

Tony let out a soft sound of surprise and made as if to pull away; Loki followed the motion, rising to his feet and using the change in position to press his whole body against the shorter man’s, driving his tongue into his soft mouth. Tony had made the first move, and Loki was damned if he would allow him to renege on it now, not when Loki could finally taste him, touch him, thread his long fingers into that short, wavy hair.

After that brief moment of uncertainty, Tony was enthusiastic once more, his own hands falling comfortably to Loki’s waist, just above his hip bones, his thumbs rubbing against the cotton of his shirt, teasing the skin below.

After a moment, Tony pulled away forcefully, and Loki caught sight of his glazed brown eyes and flushed face. He moved to recapture his mouth, but Tony interceded with a hurried: ‘Clothes, off, now.’

It was a graceless affair, neither wishing to relinquish their hold of the other to undress effectively, and by the time they had circled to the bed, they fell upon it in a panting tangle of limbs and clothes, Loki flat on the covers with his shirt half undone, his feet bare, but with his trousers still on. Tony was barely better off, his shirt gone, but his undershirt still in place, his trousers removed, but in his underclothes.

Loki made a move to further undress him, but Tony pushed him down onto the bed and fastened his lips to Loki’s throat, the roughness of his short beard a contrast to his warm mouth and tongue as he lazily sucked and nibbled his way down Loki’s neck, along his collar bone and his shoulder.

‘So pale… so smooth…’ he mumbled, and what had once been a cause of ridicule for Loki in the past now sounded like reverence from Tony’s lips.

Hands fumbled at his trousers, and pulled off his underclothes to reveal his hard cock; before he could even register the slightly cooler air of the room, Tony’s mouth was engulfing his flesh and he let out a long groan of delight, tilting his head back against the covers in bliss. His hand reached down, feeling its way over Tony’s shoulder to the nape of his neck, finally tangling his fingers in Tony’s hair, where he could feel every bob of his head, the clenching of the muscles in his neck and throat as he swallowed around Loki’s shaft.

When had he last felt this? When had it last felt so _good?_

It didn’t matter, because this was Tony now, swirling his tongue around the tip, moving his hands with their work-roughened skin tantalisingly, questioningly between his legs to circle his anus with one blunt finger-tip.

‘Yes,’ Loki gave his permission, drawing his legs further upwards in invitation.

Tony pulled away and began searching through the beside cabinet; his hand moved along Loki’s cock with lazy strokes, keeping his interest and his desire while he found what he was looking for. In a moment his mouth replaced his hand once more, and Loki felt his finger return to his hole, this time slick with lotion.

It had been a while since Loki had been touched like this by anyone other than himself, but the feeling was both familiar and arousing, and he pushed against the soft motions of Tony’s fingers, first one, then two, feeling the stretch of his muscles as he accommodated three. Tony worked skilfully, pushing in as he sucked hard on Loki’s cock, easing away as his fingers slid out. Loki writhed under his ministrations, feeling his legs start to tremble, the tightness in his balls that signified release.

‘Tony, wait, please…’ he cried, tugging at the other man’s hair.

Tony released him with an obscene-sounding slurp, and his voice was low and somewhat hoarser than his normal smooth tones. ‘Just let it happen. We’ve got plenty of time.’

Without another word he returned to his task, and Loki wasn’t sure he could have stopped it now even if he’d wanted to. With a cry that was half-agony, half-pleasure, he came, his orgasm rushing over him and leaving him weak and oh so relaxed, barely able to catch his breath.

‘Oh god, you’re beautiful,’ Tony blurted out, and Loki felt a surprising curl of warmth in his stomach at the genuineness of the compliment. He looked at Tony, lips red, hair a mess, slightly sheepish expression as he lay settled between his thighs, and couldn’t help but smile. He stretched down a hand to cup Tony’s cheek, and Tony leant into it instinctively, teeth just grazing the edge of his palm. ‘I want you,’ he voiced.

Loki’s eyes gleamed. ‘How?’

‘Turn around,’ Tony instructed, and Loki obliged, twisting himself onto his front, his backside exposed to Tony’s gaze and touch. The other man wasted no time in running his hands over Loki’s exposed flesh, spreading his cheeks apart and kneeling close behind him. The clothes made it awkward, but Loki didn’t think either of them was in the mood to stop to remove them, so he pushed them as far down his thighs as they would go.

‘Now, Tony,’ he demanded.

‘I know, I know! _Wait_ ,’ Tony cried, and Loki could feel him doing something behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Tony rolling on a condom.

‘Prepared aren’t you,’ Loki teased.

His reply was a boyish smirk. ‘Let’s hope you are too,’ he said, and that was all the warning Loki had before he was impaled on Tony’s cock. As befitting his stature, Tony wasn’t long, but he was pleasantly wide, and Loki moaned softly as he was penetrated, arching his back to allow Tony deeper.

‘I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,’ Tony told him as he paused for breath. He ran his hand down Loki’s back, over his shirt, then skin.

‘You should have said,’ Loki hissed as Tony began to move in slow thrusts, griping the covers below him to steady himself. ‘We could have been doing this sooner.’

‘I wasn’t sure,’ Tony explained. ‘I thought, but…’

‘Never mind,’ Loki brushed it aside. ‘We’re here now.’

And how glorious it was. All those nights of concern over whether he’d been caught out in his infatuation, attempting to forget about it or smother it, and it didn’t matter now. Tony was with him, in him, and it felt good to indulge his true desires, to feel a hard cock as opposed to womanly curves. This was what he wanted, and if at times he felt ashamed of it and wished it had not been so, that all fell away in moments like these, with lovers like these. Tony’s hands held his hips firm, his clothes a rough scrape against Loki’s more sensitive flesh; his knees ached and the muscles of his back and thighs protested. It was rough and somewhat undignified, but it was pure desire, and that was enough for him to close his eyes and relish in it.

All too soon, he felt Tony’s thrusts become harder, faster, and knew he was close. Loki clenched his internal muscles and felt Tony’s gasp in response, the stutter in his movement before he resumed, and then he was falling over the edge, bowing over Loki and silent as orgasm overcame him, a long, slow breath escaping and tickling against Loki’s side.

They were still except for the rapid thumps of their hearts and the quick breathing that followed exertion, slowly becoming more even as their bodies settled. When Loki could bear the weight no more, he nudged Tony with his elbow. Tony took the hint and raised himself away, pulling out of Loki also. Loki took the opportunity to stretch sore muscles, and untangled himself from the covers and his trousers to move further up the bed to lean against the cushioned headboard. He watched as Tony left the bed and picked up his shirt to clean himself off.

Loki’s nose wrinkled in disgust. ‘Plebeian.’

Tony was unabashed. ‘Pragmatist,’ he retorted, and wandered across the room to retrieve his drink.

The atmosphere was surprisingly easy-natured, more so than Loki was perhaps used to, given some of his previous experiences and lovers. This wasn’t a furtive encounter in a public place, or a quick tumble with one of the servants. Loki wondered if it was a unique thing between them, or if perhaps it was simply Tony himself, who seemed so relaxed with his body and his nature – unrepentant with who and what he was.

Tony returned to the bed and settled down beside Loki, resting on his elbow as he sipped his drink. Loki reached over and lifted it from his hand

Tony mock scowled. ‘Just because you decided to drop your drink, doesn’t mean you can just help yourself to mine.’

‘Oh, somehow I don’t think you mind.’ Loki took a sip, then returned the glass to Tony. He rubbed his hand along his exposed stomach and noted with interest how Tony’s eyes followed the movement.

‘I am surprised at your preferences,’ he broached casually. He’d known before men who would indulge in pleasure with the same sex in private, but would allow no mention of it aloud, and even revile the act in public. Something told him that Tony was not such a person, but that did not mean he would wish to discuss it with Loki. His curiosity was too great, however, following months of doubting his instincts and dampening his own desires.

Tony gave a lazy smile and shrugged. ‘No point in limiting myself to just one gender.’

Loki considered the response. Given Tony’s personality, such a simple explanation made sense to him. He was a man who enjoyed life as much as he was able to, and that was something which Loki admired about him.

‘But you are inclined towards both?’ Loki prompted.

Tony swept a hand through his hair. ‘Both genders have their appeals,’ he explained tactfully. ‘While I enjoy women… I do tend to find relationships with men less complicated. No unexpected consequences like marriage or children.’ He scrunched his nose.

His distaste was so palatable that Loki couldn’t help but tease, ‘So no Mrs Stark-to-be waiting in the wings?’

Tony glared at him in way that made it clear how unimpressed he was with that idea. He tilted his head. ‘What about you?’

Loki thought of his answer before he spoke. How best to describe his desires and history? Just how much should he reveal to this man who, although lying naked in bed with him, although having shared their bodies once, was still an unknown? ‘I have always preferred my own sex,’ he revealed. ‘It has not always been to my benefit.’

Tony’s brown eyes were sympathetic. ‘No, I suspect not.’ He relaxed further into the pillows behind him, stretching his arms over his head. ‘Well, at least between us there won’t be any more doubt.’

Loki hesitated a moment, then asked ‘Do you wish for this liaison to continue?’

Tony’s eyebrow shot up, as if questioning Loki’s intelligence in asking such a question. ‘Loki, I like to think we’re friends, and I think it’s very evident that we’re very compatible in other areas. We’re both unattached, and we spend a lot of time in each others’ company. I would very much like it if we could do this again – in fact, as much as possible.’ There was a touch of his usual irreverence, but just enough seriousness as if he understood this was an important question to answer for both of them if they should be able to proceed in whatever kind of relationship they decided to.

Loki smiled gratefully, reaching out and running his hand along Tony’s thigh, up towards his hip. ‘I’d like that very much too,’ he agreed, then before another word could be spoken, he shifted in the bed and settled himself on Tony’s thighs, feeling the muscles clench under his buttocks at the unexpected weight. He lifted his hands to the shirt he still wore, and slowly released each of the tiny pearl buttons in turn. When he was done, he drew the white shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, exposing his slim chest. He dropped the shirt off the side of the bed.

Tony watched him with avid interest, his arms tucked behind his head as he enjoyed the brief display.

‘Your turn,’ Loki said, reaching forward for Tony’s undershirt.

Tony’s hands jerked from behind his head and stilled Loki’s an inch from the bottom of his shirt. Loki brought his eyes to meet the other’s and through the desire he saw a flare of uncertainty.

His face gentled, and he twisted his hands so that he could hold Tony’s. ‘We all have scars, Tony, although most perhaps not as visible as yours.’

Tony’s smile was perhaps not as bright as his usual, but he made an attempt at humour. ‘Knew you were ogling me…’

Loki bent down to kiss him, and they exchanged slow, exploratory kisses, a different pace to their franticness before. Loki enjoyed the way Tony’s beard felt against his sensitive lips, and he enjoyed the rising redness in the other’s the longer he nibbled along them. When he went to remove Tony’s shirt again, this time he wasn’t stopped. The whorls of scar tissue and streaks of reddened skin was a sorry sight to see, but from sadness at the pain Tony must have endured rather than any disgust at his appearance. Loki let his fingers trace the edges of the scars, followed by his lips and tongue, and above him Tony sighed softly and played with the tips of Loki’s hair as it fell down the sides of his face.

When he was done, Loki searched the bed for the oil that Tony had used before, coating his hand liberally. He shuffled forward until his erect cock brushed against Tony’s, and then took them both in hand as best he could, rubbing the oil onto their lengths so that his hand slid up and down.

‘S’good,’ Tony gave encouragement, and brought his hand up so he could thread his fingers with Loki around their cocks, starting a slow, lazy pace. They worked in tandem, matching their pace, the pressure, the twist of their fingers at the tips growing slick with leaking precum. Tony’s other hand found Loki’s thigh, and he held it firmly; Loki tilted his head back, but lowered his eyes so he could keep his gaze locked with Tony’s, so he could watch the twitch of his muscles, the tongue that wet his lips, those deep brown eyes growing blurred as his pleasure came to climax.

Loki let out a hiss of breath as he came, his thighs clenching against Tony’s hips as he spilled over Tony’s stomach and their joint hands. Tony grunted, and sped up the strokes of their hands until he found his own release, his semen mingling with Loki’s.

Loki’s head dropped forward and he brought his hand to Tony’s chest to support him as he came down from the high.

‘You’re good at that,’ Tony complimented, his voice replete with satisfaction.

Loki glanced up and gave a self-satisfied smirk, before sliding off Tony and the bed. He retreated to the bathroom where he collected a hand towel, wetting it in the sink before cleaning his body and hands off. He brought it out for Tony to do the same. The other man accepted it gratefully, wiping himself off before discarding the towel absently on the floor beside the bed, much to Loki’s resigned disapproval. ‘Such bad habits…’

‘There’s a reason my servants are well-paid,’ was the reply, Tony not even bothering to open his eyes.

Loki snorted. ‘I should go,’ he said, turning to gather his clothes.

Tony mumbled sleepily, and Loki stopped at the hand that grasped gently on his wrist. ‘Stay.’

Loki considered the half-asleep man, wondering what the best solution would be. Logic told him that it would be best to leave now, but desire enticed him towards the warm bed and warm body that so willingly embraced him.

He allowed want to overcome sense, and slipped back between the covers.

 

* * *

 

Tony awoke from a dream of fire and a building falling to pieces around his head. He’d had it so many times that if he had wanted to he could recall every detail without effort; he’d had it so many times that he just wanted to forget.

He pulled himself into a sitting position and glanced around the room. Through the curtains he’d neglected to close the night before, he could see the murky grey of a cloudy dawn, and his pocket watch on the table beside him confirmed it wasn’t yet half past five, certainly an ungodly hour to be awake.

Beside him, Loki slept on his side facing Tony, his left hand tucked underneath his cheek. He looked peaceful and far too innocent in rest in comparison to the vitality and emotions he exuded when awake.

Tony was tempted to reach out to him, but even he knew that his nightmares were no reason to disturb someone from their rest. After a few moments when his quickened breathing had calmed once more and the shaking had faded from his hands, he slipped from the bed and into the bathroom, flicking on one of the lamps and closing the door softly behind him so the light would not bother Loki.

The tiles were cool underfoot, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to all the shining surfaces with their gold-coloured accents. He passed a mirror, but a glance at his somewhat haggard appearance was enough, and he proceeded to ignore his reflection as he made his way to the shower enclosure.

He’d requested this room specifically for this reason, for although the installation was nowhere near to the improvements he had made to his at home, the feel of the water pounding against his bent head and shoulders was far more soothing to him than a bath. The splatter of water on tiles drowned out the crackling of flames and the shouts and cries of those who had died for his success.

He startled at the soft creak of the door, and when he glanced over his shoulder, Loki stood in the doorway wrapped in Tony’s beige and brown robe from China, his black hair tousled around his shoulders.

‘I didn’t mean to wake you,’ Tony apologised, twisting off the shower and stepping out of the enclosure.

It wasn’t often that Tony interacted with his bed partners the morning after. Usually by then he’d made his escape and left Jarvis to send them on their way. It didn’t feel as awkward with Loki as he’d expected, but there was still some slight tension in the air.

Loki gave an elegant shrug which showed only indifference to being woken, and stepped closer. ‘If I asked what drove you from sleep, would you tell me?’

Tony considered replying with one of his usual witty remarks, but felt suddenly weary of the façade, and too that Loki deserved better than that. ‘Perhaps another time,’ he replied. ‘I’d rather not remember it right now.’

Loki nodded his acceptance, then tilted his head to the side, a smirk curling his lips. ‘Perhaps I can offer some diversion?’

Tony’s interest immediately ignited at the obvious insinuation, and he eyed Loki hungrily. ‘What do you have in mind?’

Loki lowered his eyes, and deftly tugging loose the ties of the robe he wore, let it fall in loose folds to the floor. He left it lying there as he stepped further forward, coming to within inches of Tony. He reached behind Tony and turned the lever for the shower, starting the spray of warm water once more. Tony shook his head to flick his wet fringe out of his eyes, waiting for Loki’s next move. 

When it came, it was very deliberate, and all the more erotic for it. He took Tony’s right hand and placed it flat against the tile beside him, then his left, turning him so that he faced the wall, the water falling over him from the front, and Loki standing behind him.

Loki’s first touch was the skimming of his fingertips across Tony’s back, so light as to be almost ticklish, tracing down his sides and to the front of his chest where his palms came to rest over Tony’s scars. He began pressing open-mouthed kisses to the back of Tony’s neck, warm and wet from the water, along one shoulder blade and then the other. Tony stretched his head back to expose his neck, and Loki took full advantage of it, nibbling and suckling up the sleek column, nipping sharply at his ear lobe. Tony bucked in his hold and felt his cock throb between his thighs at the sudden flicker of pain.

Loki’s left hand relinquished its place on his chest and began to trail down his stomach, until it reached his cock. Those long fingers which he’d learned were so talented last night wrapped around him and began to pump slowly up and down. The rhythm was teasing, not enough pressure or speed to sate him, but enough to keep him on edge – exactly the point, Tony realised.

‘Loki…’ he muttered disapprovingly.

Loki just laughed and removed his hand from Tony’s shaft – which was _not_ what Tony had been aiming for, but when it moved further down to cup his testicles and tug on them playfully Tony thought perhaps he didn’t mind as much as he’d thought. A few moments later and he was released once again, and this time Loki’s fingers found his arsehole. Tony widened his stance and tilted his hips in invitation. He reached out to the small shelf in the shower and picked up a small vial, holding it over his shoulder for Loki to take.

‘In the shower?’ Loki asked in amusement.

‘Clearly coming in handy now,’ Tony pointed out.

Loki didn’t reply, but there was a tinkle of glass as the lid dropped to the floor beside their feet, and Loki tipped the oil onto his fingers. The half-empty vial he returned to Tony, who deposited once more on the shelf, before repositioning his hand on the wall.

Loki’s fingers found his hole again, the tip of one slipping inside so slowly it was almost unnoticeable, twisting gently as he slid it in and out following a rhythm that seemed to follow Tony’s breaths, or perhaps his breathing had slowed to match, he wasn’t sure any more.

The water falling in his face was blinding, blurry at best, and he squinted through the droplets adorning his lashes as he focused on the slide of Loki’s fingers. His dream was long-forgotten, as Loki had known it would be. Sex had always been his preferred methods of escaping his dark thoughts.

‘Will you take more?’ Loki’s low voice interrupted that thought, and Tony knew what he was offering – what he was asking.

The thought of having Loki inside him was arousing, albeit accompanied by the sliver of unease. Fucking and pleasuring another allowed him the control, but this way round would leave him more vulnerable, and Tony was not always comfortable with such a thing. He covered his unease with customary humour.

‘You’ve got to be pretty special to fuck Tony Stark,’ Tony ground out, his voice hoarse.

Loki’s fingers plunged deeper, twisted, and Tony groaned long and low in his throat, his eyes falling closed.

‘Am I special enough?’ he whispered against Tony’s throat, pressing his teeth against his pulse point. Tony’s heart thumped loudly in his ears.

‘Keep doing that, and I think you’ll make the list,’ Tony replied, his decision made.

Loki’s ministrations continued, until Tony was helplessly bucking against his fingers, his left hand splayed against the wall his main support in remaining upright. His right hand inched towards his hard cock, his need to relieve the ache overwhelming, but Loki’s arm quickly snaked down and he caught Tony’s hand in his long-fingered grip, bringing it to curl up against Tony’s chest.

‘I want you writhing on my cock when you come,’ Loki breathed in his ear, and he pressed forward so Tony could feel the length of his shaft against his hip.

‘Oh god, oh god,’ he whimpered, seemingly unable to vocalise anything else, something which Loki found immeasurably satisfying if the little moan of delight he gave indicated. He rested one cheek against the cool tiles as he tried to gather his wits. ‘Do it Loki, please.’

‘ _Yes_!’ Loki snarled, and withdrew his fingers from Tony. Tony grunted in protest when he felt Loki step away completely, but within moments he was back, and he recognised the sound of him rolling on a condom. Tony took position against the wall, spreading his legs wide and tilting his hips back in invitation. Then, Loki was behind him once more, his hands sliding up Tony’s sides and around to his chest where he pulled him back against him even as his cock was slipping inside in a smooth thrust.

Tony whined softly under his breath, gasping for breath as he adjusted to the feel of being penetrated. He was shorter than Loki, and Loki was not accommodating to the height difference, which meant Tony’s weight was forcing him down on Loki’s cock, filling him deeply.

‘I like it rough,’ he told Loki, but Loki simply pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek.

‘I think not.’

And that was the rule he held by, rocking slowly but surely against Tony, his arms holding Tony against him, the slight off balance adding greater sensation, contrasted by the gentle kisses and nuzzling against Tony’s throat. He was unmoved by Tony’s wanton attempts to go faster, harder, and Tony found himself forced to endure the leisurely torment until his fingers tingled and his whole body throbbed for release. His hands clenched in desperation against the wall tiles, and Loki moved his own on top of them, twining his fingers with Tony’s and holding them in place.

‘Loki, please…’ Tony begged, his voice reedy and ragged.

‘Soon,’ came the murmured reply, and Tony shut his eyes with a gasp as Loki changed his angle, now aiming directly for that spot of pleasure inside him. Tony ground down against him, gritting his teeth as he tried to maintain that perfect depth and pace; the muscles in his arms strained, his legs were locked in place, and he could feel the whole tightness coiling in his body as it moved towards completion.

‘ _Touch me_ ,’ he demanded, and this time Loki did as he was asked, releasing Tony’s hand to circle his cock, tugging on it with just the right pressure and speed that within only a few strokes had Tony spurting against the wall, a choked cry spilling from his lips.

Loki’s teeth found his throat and he bit hard enough to bruise as he found his own release. He leant against Tony’s back, one hand still entangled with Tony’s, the other clenched against Tony’s chest.

‘I could do this forever with you,’ he mumbled into Tony’s skin, and Tony let out a breathless laugh.

‘I don’t think we’d survive.’ He nudged against Loki’s chest, and Loki pulled reluctantly free. He shifted to one side into the flow of water, which was still miraculously warm considering the time they’d been under it, and gave himself a quick scrub and rinse.

Tony leant against the wall, body protesting moving again so soon; besides, Loki was an incredibly attractive sight, and he could afford to linger for that view.

When Loki was done, Tony quickly washed away the evidence of their couplings, wincing slightly as his fingers touched sore flesh. It had been far too long, and he was sure to feel it. ‘I don’t know how I’ll sit for the rest of the day,’ he commented.

‘I think the ladies were keen on horse-back riding today,’ Loki said innocently from the middle of the bathroom, where he’d picked up Tony’s robe and wrapped it around himself once more.

Tony’s eyes went wide with alarm. ‘Loki, tell me you’re joking? Please, tell me that’s a joke?’

Loki just gave his customary lizard’s smile and stepped into the next room.

 

* * *

 

Despite Loki’s attempts at scaremongering, and much to Tony’s relief, horse-riding had not been the plan for the day. While the ladies elected to spend the morning shopping under the agreeable chaperonage of Clint and Thor, Dr Banner proposed a walk to the Level, where the building of the Royal Gardens was currently underway. He was eager to see some of the wildlife there, although as he explained to the others on the way, it was hardly going to be on par with the specimens in The Royal Botanical Gardens in Kew.

‘I thought he was a physicist,’ Rogers asked the others when Dr Banner was out of earshot admiring a plant off the path.

‘I think he’s something of an everything-ist,’ Tony explained with humour. ‘I can’t begin to tell you the amount of weird creatures and things he used to collect and bring home. You’d find them in all sorts of places – he even kept tadpoles in the bath!’

‘Has he begun the story about the tadpoles yet?’ Dr Banner called over his shoulder, now inspecting the soil beneath the plant. He glanced over his shoulder with an impish smile. ‘That’s one if his favourites.’ He stood up, brushing the dirt from his fingers and meandered over to join them. ‘Of course, I don’t suppose he’s mentioned the fact that _he_ was the one who put the tadpoles in the bath after managing to destroy the glass tank having arrived home three sheets to the wind at four in the morning and deciding to experiment with chemicals? It took three days to get the smell of the fumes out of the living room.’

‘You shared accommodation before?’ Rogers asked interestedly.

‘On and off, I suppose you’d say,’ Banner answered, and glanced at Tony fondly. ‘We’ve known each other a long time.’

Tony returned the look and smiled. ‘Despite your tadpoles.’

‘Despite your experiments,’ Banner returned.

Tony doffed an imaginary cap in acknowledgement and glanced further down the Level. ‘Shall we see what’s down there?’ he suggested.

As they set off once more, Loki took the chance to mull over the realisation he’d had during Tony and Banner’s jesting. They were clearly old friends, as he’d known since meeting Banner, as well as colleagues, but there were hints in their conversation that suggested at something more. How they interacted, the easiness and fondness, the way they seemed to know one another’s minds – it was possible it had come from close proximity and working together, but Loki did not think so.

He dismissed it from his mind as best he could as the day progressed. When they finished their walk they returned to the hotel and rejoined the rest of their party for a late lunch, before readying themselves for the evening visit to the theatre. It was considerably different to the polished performances they were used to seeing in London, especially off-season when it appeared to be more of a dress-run than a finalised piece, but they enjoyed it all the same.

That evening, as the night before, Tony issued Loki with an invitation to join him as they prepared to settle in for the night, and their coupling was as enthusiastic and as satisfying as their last encounter, as they used their mouths to pleasure each other.

Afterwards, as they idled in bed, Loki sought to satisfy his curiosity.

‘Are you and Banner lovers?’ he asked bluntly.

Tony raised his eyebrows. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘The way you interact,’ Loki answered simply. ‘Now, tell me.’

‘I’m not going to deny it, but I should point out we _were_ lovers, rather than are. We have been simply friends far longer than we were together.’

Loki felt a slight knot of tension inside him unravel. Even for the shortest relationships, he found no appeal in encroaching on the territory of another. He’d seen too often how thoughtless affairs could lead to anger and heartache.

‘Does that put you at ease?’

Loki met his brown eyes. ‘Yes. Although I am curious as to why the relationship ended,’ he solicited.

Tony’s lips twitched. ‘There’s no dark secret behind it, if that’s what you’re looking for. We were compatible in intelligence and interests and physically, however there were aspects of our personalities that would not fit together no matter how we wished. We do far better as friends – a little distance between us.'

Loki nodded, realising that was as much an answer as he’d probably entice from Tony, at least for now. It was perhaps as much as he’d been able to guess for himself, but at least now his assumptions were confirmed.

‘What about you?’

Loki licked his bottom lip, a moment’s pause for thought before he spoke, somewhat diplomatically. ‘Some you may meet, but there are none that I still hold fond.’

Tony’s expression softened with sympathy. ‘That’s a shame,’ he said truthfully, before adopting a more devilish smile. ‘Think of all the wicked tales I could learn.’

Loki smirked. ‘You may try.’

‘Mm!’ Tony pushed himself further upright in bed, twisting so that he was facing Loki on crossed legs. ‘I had something to ask you.’

‘Oh?’

‘I was intending to stay here a few days after the others return to London tomorrow. I’d like it if you stayed too.’

Loki felt a shimmer of surprise, mingled with the warm feeling of being wanted. He lowered his lashes to hide the delight in his eyes. ‘Yes, I think that would please me. What shall we tell the others?’

Tony shrugged. ‘Tell them I have business or make something else up.’

‘Very well,’ Loki acquiesced. Knowing that he would have the pleasure of Tony’s company and body for a few more days before they returned to their normal lives was an exciting prospect, and he hoped to take as much advantage of it as he could. Here they were free to enjoy each other – in London they would have other demands on their time.

He leaned forward to press a kiss against Tony’s bare shoulder. ‘We may as well make the most of it, don’t you say?’

Tony’s eyes brightened and he shifted forward to kneel on the bed before Loki’s face. The brocade dressing gown he wore was only loosely tied at his waist, revealing the firm muscles of his thighs and chest. He toasted Loki with his half-full glass. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning over breakfast, Tony informed their companions of his plan to remain a few days longer, and Loki’s willingness to keep him company. There was surprise, but none more than expected, and the others accepted the change of plans with equanimity. There was a murmur of suggestion that the others should remain behind also, but Tony brushed away the offer with his usual charm. 

Loki and Tony stepped outside to see the others off just before lunch time, and while Tony went to one side to have a word with Dr Banner, Clint meandered over to Loki, nudging his side with a playful elbow.

‘Hope you enjoy your… _business_ ,’ he said casually. He glanced at Loki from the corner of his eye, and there was a hint of mischief to his voice.

Loki became instantly more alert, and licked his lips warily. ‘I think I do not understand your meaning,’ he said stiffly.

Clint’s expression was gentle. ‘I think you do.’

Loki’s gaze slid away as he digested that comment, his eyes passing almost unseeingly over the carriages and the servants loading luggage. Clint had been his friend for years and never before had he made such an insinuating comment, as if he knew exactly what Loki had tried so very hard to hide. He didn’t know whether to affirm or deny, so he stayed silent, his breath almost non-existent, waiting.

Clint didn’t disappoint. ‘Loki, I’ve know you a long time, and as you’re probably aware, it is my profession to unearth secrets – but there is no shame in yours. I’ve known a long time, and it is of no consequence to me whom you bed, nor mine to tell to others.’ He paused, offering Loki the chance to speak, but Loki was too stunned to do anything more than stare at him in bewilderment. Clint reached out and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to speak about it again.’

He stepped away with the intention of rejoining Natasha, and Loki finally managed to bring his voice under control. ‘Why now?’ he asked hoarsely.

Clint smiled over his shoulder. ‘Because you look happy.’

Loki’s confusion continued, although he gamely hid it as they said good-byes to their companions and watched their carriages leave London-bound. He had no opportunity to further mull it over, for as soon as the carriages were out of sight, Tony turned to him expectantly.

‘Ready?’ he asked.

‘What for?’

Tony’s grin was both coy and smug. ‘You’ll see.’

 

* * *

 

Much to Loki’s surprise, Tony did appear to have genuine business in Brighton, and that afternoon he followed him to a small office down one of the side streets, where Tony was enthusiastically greeted by Mr Spectre, a short, balding man with a pair of round spectacles. 

‘I must admit I was surprised to receive your sudden request Mr Stark,’ Mr Spectre announced as he ushered them into his office and into the seats before his desk. He took his own seat and shuffled some paperwork in front of him. ‘With as short a notice, I’ve done my best to find what you requested. I just hope it meets your expectations.’

He handed Tony the papers, and Loki had the first opportunity to solve the mystery of their little trip as he peered curiously over Tony’s shoulder.

‘Property?’ he exclaimed, meeting Tony’s eyes.

Tony gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘Call it a spur of the moment whim.’ He turned back to Mr Spectre. ‘Shall we get started?’

There followed an afternoon of property viewing as Mr Spectre led them to those that Tony had selected from his list of choices. Some were older buildings that had been built over fifty years before, whereas others were newer, more modern constructs, some still in progress. The choices were not endless, but there was enough to occupy them for the afternoon, and Loki had ample opportunity to find out just what exactly Tony sought in a house.

‘Why are you really doing this?’ he asked as Tony inspected the drawing plans for a half-completed house, with not even windows installed.

‘A whim, I told you,’ was the enigmatic answer, and Loki narrowed his eyes.

‘I will get it out of you,’ he warned.

Tony grinned. ‘That sounds fun.’

Loki moved to stand square in front of him and lowered his voice so it was barely a whisper between them. ‘Tell me,’ he entreated.

Tony’s boyish expression faded into something more serious, and he lifted a hand to run a finger along Loki’s jaw. ‘I find I’ve suddenly become rather fond of Brighton. It seems to be producing some rather memorable moments, and I would like the opportunity for there to be more.’

Loki was instantly and ridiculously touched, and the emotion shone from his eyes.

Tony acknowledged it with a softening of his own gaze, before he added, ‘Besides, I like owning stuff.’

‘Oniomaniac,’ Loki muttered, and the sound of approaching footsteps spurred them into a more respectable distance apart.

Tony refused the opportunity to see the last house on the list, saying the current one was perfect and informing Mr Spectre that he should get in touch with his man of business in London to make the arrangements for the purchase. If Mr Spectre was astonished by the swiftness of it, he didn’t show it.

Tony and Loki dined out that evening, enjoying on of the finer restaurants currently available to them, before retiring to Tony’s room for the night where Tony pulled Loki down to sit beside him in front of the fire, offering him a glass of rich red wine which reflected like jewels from the flickering flames.

Loki reached over and idly unbuttoned Tony’s shirt, revealed the scarred chest beneath. He brushed his fingertips over it. ‘Will you tell me?’

Tony took a fortifying sip of his wine, leaning his weight on his other arm as he considered Loki with his expressive brown eyes. ‘I don’t usually talk about it much…’ he began stiffly. ‘Those most important to me already know…’

‘I see.’ Loki withdrew his hand, but Tony’s own extended to grasp his.

‘I didn’t say I didn’t want to tell you, just that it was hard to know where to begin.’ His thumb brushed against Loki’s wrist, and Loki let the sudden tension in his limbs loosen, and he relaxed once move onto his elbow beside Tony.

‘I guess… I guess I should start with me, and who I used to be. I was extremely intelligent, and all that mattered to me was investing and accruing money – and I was good at it. I was young when I inherited my father’s company. It had always been known for weapons manufacturing; it had army contracts, naval contracts, and it was easy enough for me to continue on with it along with my father’s old partner, Obadiah Stane.’ He paused for breath and another gulp. ‘He betrayed me. I never really found out what led to it, except for greed, I suppose. He tried to have me killed, set up an explosion in one of my factories and lured me there. It nearly worked. I nearly died. If it weren’t for one of the workers, Yinsen, who threw himself in front of me at the last second, and an error Obadiah made with the explosives, I would have come through much worse than I have. Yinsen didn’t make it.’ His eyes darted away, towards the fire, and Loki could see the reflection of it in them.

‘What of Stane?’ he asked quietly.

‘He died too. I made sure of that,’ his voice was grim as he met Loki’s eyes again. ‘Afterwards, I decided no more weapons manufacturing. I turned towards industry and energy, and I’ve not looked back since.’

Loki stretched forward to press a kiss against Tony’s palm, still gently cradling his hand. ‘I think you’re better for it.’

Tony finished off his glass. ‘So do I.’ He set it aside. ‘Your turn spill all your secrets,’ he prompted.

‘What would you know?’ Loki asked guardedly. Of course Tony would be one to demand reciprocation, and Loki did not wish to deny him, but there was so much shame and anger tingeing his past, much of which he would not wish to recall.

‘You and Thor,’ Tony clarified. ‘What’s your history?’

Loki snorted, and idly traced the swirls on the carpet below him. ‘Thor and I… such different species, you wonder that we’re even related. He was the favourite, whereas I was not, and because of it I was a creature of anger and jealousy for much of my life, and I did all I could to destroy his affection for me, to punish him for what he was as much as to punish myself for what I could not be.’

‘Seems a little harsh,’ Tony interrupted. ‘Your view of yourself, I mean, although I guess the same could be said for your treatment of him too….’

Loki gave a thin smile. ‘I was not one for softness where he was concerned. In fact, I was not much for softness in most things.’

‘Somehow I think that’s a fib, otherwise you’d not have friends or a family that is still fond of you.’

Loki tilted his head. ‘Perhaps, but as with you, I am much mellowed in my older years.’

‘What changed?’

Loki wet his lips. ‘There came a time, in the midst of our enmity, where Thor’s life lay in my hands. An accident, a badly maintained bridge on the estate, and he fell; only quick reflexes allowed him to grasp the rail. Only he and I were there, and as I stood on the bridge, there was a moment…just one moment, where I thought perhaps I should just let him fall,’ he whispered softly, shamefully, ‘It would have all been mine, then, and the feud would have been over.'

  
Tony’s look was non-judgmental. ‘Why didn’t you?’  
  
‘Because deep inside, I still loved him, and I still yearned for his love in return,’ he replied simply, ‘and I would not have been able to face my mother had I been the cause of his death.’ When he’d finished, he turned his head away, leaving Tony to gaze at his profile. 

‘He saw it, that day, in my eyes. He could have hated me for it, but I believe he chooses to remember that I did not turn away, that I stayed, and I saved him.’

‘He’s a good man.’

‘Far better than I,’ Loki agreed, ‘and I find it no longer pains me to acknowledge it.’

‘We can’t all be like that,’ Tony stated adamantly. ‘Otherwise where would all the fun be?’

For all the humour behind it, there was an ingrained sense of desperate hope to his words, and they sat there in silence, two men each broken in their own ways, but attempting to make the best of it.

Finally unable to take it any longer, Tony rose to his feet and offered Loki his hand. ‘Come to bed, Loki. 

Loki took it and allowed Tony to lead him to relief and rest.

 

* * *

 

Three days later, Loki and Tony returned to London, Tony to his house to continue with his projects, and Loki to his father’s home to be greeted by his resplendent mother and eager brother, who seemed not at all suspicious of the extra days spent in Brighton just the two of them.

While Loki enjoyed his return to the bustle and noise of the city, there was a part of him which missed the quite time spent with Tony, and there lingered the doubt that Tony would wish to continue his liaison now that they were, for lack of a better sentiment, returned to their normal lives.

He needn’t have feared. The very second night back found him out and about with Thor and his companions, and as they brought their merriment to an end, Tony’s gleaming eyes and inquisitive smile told him clearly enough the other’s feelings on continuing their relationship, and he once again came to be in Tony’s bed as the night turned into morning.

It set the trend for the next month, as Loki found himself an even more frequent visitor to Tony’s house than Thor who was bound by gentlemanly protocols for courting Lady Jane. No such rules existed for Loki and Tony, aside from the very nature of their relationship, and if they were flouting that one, then it seemed pointless to expect to hold to the rest.

They made all attempts to remain discreet, but discretion only went so far when Tony lived in a house with three other guests – and also where Tony himself was concerned – and it was not long before Loki’s comings and goings were a common part of the household, barely commented upon.

The first time Loki overslept, late for lunch with his mother, he’d cursed, knowing that he did not have time to return home to change, but also knowing that he could not afford to meet his mother dressed in his clothes from the evening before without arousing both suspicion and comment. As he deliberated his options, Tony had mumbled, ‘Check the closet’ sleepily from the bed. His curiosity piqued despite his lateness, Loki had done so, and found an array of day- and evening-wear made in his favourite styles by his favourite tailors. Although Tony was never one to shy away from his wealth and spending it, it was the little displays of Tony’s care for him which gave him a pleasant ache in his chest.

More such displays followed: Loki’s favourite brand of tea being served at breakfast; his now welcome acceptance by Jarvis and the other servants of the house; a delivery of books he’d mentioned wishing for waiting for him one evening. In subtle and ever increasing ways, Tony was attempting to make him feel at home.

For those outside of Tony’s house, Clint knew of their deepening relationship, and although he and Clint did not speak of it again, Loki found comfort in his silent acceptance. Loki was sure the knowledge was also shared with Natasha, but true to his word, the others remained oblivious for the time being.

Thor’s discovery of the relationship was rather more unexpected.

Loki had spent the night as per usual, and was enjoying breakfast with Lady Jane when Thor entered the room and stopped abruptly, his eye flicking between Lady Jane and Loki’s own less than kempt appearance. His face twisted into a thunderous scowl.

‘What is this?’ he boomed.

Loki opened his mouth to reply, but in that moment Tony slipped past Thor into the room, patting his shoulder as he went.

‘Don’t get the wrong end of the stick, big guy,’ he said cheerfully, and proceeded to Loki, leaning down from behind his chair to brush a kiss over his lips. He then took his usual seat without fuss and began helping himself to coffee.

Thor’s expression went from stony to confused to apologetic so quickly it was almost comical, and he settled himself into one of the seats, looking shamefaced.

‘Brother, I apologise for my misinterpreted accusations,’ he said stiffly.

It was awkward but well-meant, and Loki nodded gratefully. ‘No harm done, brother.’

Conversation turned to lighter affairs, Thor proposing a walk in the park, which all agreed to. No more was said about the sudden revelation of Tony and Loki’s relationship, aside from a quiet word from Thor on the carriage-ride home. He’d been frowning rather fiercely in thought, so Loki was not surprised at his topic of conversation.

‘Does he make you happy?’ he asked abruptly.

‘Yes,’ Loki confirmed simply, ‘he does.’ It would take far longer to explain just what he and Tony meant to each other, and there was no need.

Thor considered his answer for a moment before his expression relaxed and he offered Loki a wide smile. ‘Then I wish you all the best with your, uh, companion.’

Loki was appreciative of the heartfelt acceptance of his relationship, and returned the smile. ‘Thank you, brother.’

His words to Thor were true, too. For the first time in a long time, Loki found himself genuinely content with his circumstances, and it was visible in his very demeanour, if his mother’s unsubtle attempts to elicit the cause of his sudden good humour were proof.

There still remained that niggling uncertainty over their future. They had made no guarantee to one another, and Loki knew that it was best they did not. Loki was a second son, but the expectation still remained that he marry; Tony was the head of a company, and he would need an heir before long.

Inwardly, Loki railed against that confining and defining presumption of the course of his life, and he felt the vestiges of his old anger stir within him. They quietened, though, every time he was in Tony’s company, as he laughed with him, worked on the project with him, lay naked beside, behind and underneath him.

Tony was stubborn enough, irreverent enough, to flout the rules when he so chose; that strength seemed to ignite Loki’s own, and he began to believe that between them, they could overcome anything. 

 

* * *

 

In the last week of May, Clint invited Loki and the others to dine with him in his home just off St James’ Park. It was a respectable home, newly bought, Loki knew, just after Clint had returned to London with Natasha in tow as if Clint had known his bachelor apartment would not meet Natasha’s meticulous standards upon marriage. The way her touches could already be seen in the décor of the house attested to her comfortable inclusion in Clint’s life even before marriage, and their easy hospitality made Loki think their September wedding could not come soon enough.

It was a small, intimate dinner, just he and Thor, Lady Jane and Tony invited, and the select guest list made for a remarkably relaxed dinner, where no one commented that he and Tony were seated beside each other, or that Thor was furtively holding Lady Jane’s hand under the table in such a secretive way that it was anything but.

They spoke of light topics, such as Tony’s near-completed project, the purchase of the house in Brighton which Tony was even now directing the plans for renovations to the proposed works. Thor spoke about after the London Season ended, and arranging a ball and hunting party at Valhalla Hall, shortly after Clint and Natasha’s wedding.

Loki grew quiet at the reminder that their time in London was limited, and they would all be expected to return to Valhalla Hall in a few short weeks. The socialising would continue, of course, but in a much more refined and insular environment. It would be difficult for Tony and him to continue as easily as they currently were, but he was sure that they would manage. He could probably devise some reason to remain in London when his family left.

The footmen were just serving dessert when the sound of the front door knocking loudly penetrated into the room. They quietened somewhat as they listened to the butler make his way to the front door to open it, and then low voices conversing. A moment later, the butler entered the dining room, where all looked upon him expectantly. He cleared his throat apologetically, glanced towards Clint, before his eyes found Tony.

‘My apologies to disturb you, however there is a young servant at the door who claims to have been sent here by your man Jarvis with an urgent missive.’ He held the apparent missive in his hands, and offered it to Tony.

Tony wiped at his mouth with a napkin, set it aside. ‘Best have a look then,’ he said to no one in particular and reached out to take the envelope. He used his dinner knife to open it, and then folded it open, scanning the contents. His reaction was sudden, and noticeable, his eyes widening in alarm and his face growing slack with it. He abruptly folded the letter again and stuffed it in his jacket.

‘I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to leave,’ he announced, glancing around the table.

Thor frowned gravely. ‘I hope there’s nothing amiss.’

‘It’s a letter from my man in Liverpool. One of my ships has arrived and there have been… complications. I need to see to it myself,’ Tony explained, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. ‘I’ll need to leave at once. Please excuse me.’

‘Of course,’ Clint said.

‘I will see you out,’ Loki announced.

In the hallway while Tony pulled on his greatcoat and the hat Clint’s butler fetched him, Loki stepped close to his lover, concerned by his distracted air and obvious distress. ‘Tell me what’s wrong?’ he entreated.

‘It’s nothing to worry about.’ Tony attempted a reassuring smile, and it was at least more passable than his earlier one. ‘It is as I said – it’s not something I was expecting. I should be back in a week or so.’ He reached out and cupped Loki’s cheek in his hand. ‘Try not to miss me too much.’

Loki snorted. ‘Away with you, fool,’ he dismissed him, but he brushed over Tony’s hand on his cheek nonetheless, giving a small squeeze as it dropped away from his face. Then Tony was out the door, and Loki was alone in the hallway.

There was nothing to do but return to the dining room and resume dinner, although Loki had lost his appetite for food and conversation. It was funny how everything had become more entertaining with Tony there to share it.

Beside him, Natasha reached over and squeezed his wrist. ‘He would have told you if it was something to concern yourself about,’ she deduced, her expression sympathetic.

Loki nodded, deciding there was no use dwelling on it now; there were still many aspects of Tony’s life in which he had no part, and he should not feel so aggrieved when faced with it. There would come a time when Tony would trust him with everything, and Loki would wait for that. 

Still, that momentary flare of panic in his lover’s eyes left him uneasy.

 

* * *

 

‘Brother.’

Loki glanced to the door of his room, raising his eyebrow at Thor’s meek greeting, the way he stood awkwardly half in and half out the room, as if unsure of his welcome when normally he had no compunction in barging in whether his presence was wanted or not.

‘Come in, Thor,’ Loki invited him, motioning him towards the small window seat. His brother took the offer, settling his too large frame onto the narrow ledge. Loki himself slid to the edge of the bed where he’d been indulging in a little light reading before turning in, smoothing down the edges of his gold and green dressing gown. ‘What troubles you?’

‘I need your advice, brother,’ Thor held his eyes seriously, no mirth lighting them in his usual nonchalant way; he held himself tensely, his hands resting gently in his lap, his right hand clenched into a fist.

Loki felt a sharp twinge of alarm. ‘Thor, what is it?’

Thor took a deep breath, and at once stretched his hand out to his brother, unfurling his palm to reveal the small item in his palm. ‘Will she like it?’ he blurted out.

Loki, expecting dire news, simply blinked down at the twinkling ring cradled gently in the centre of his brother’s large palm.

‘You came to ask about a ring?’ he felt the need to ask.

Thor frowned minutely. ‘Why, yes. I would have my brother’s advice on proposing to the woman I love.’

Loki couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him, and he pressed a hand over his eyes.

‘If you think my worries frivolous, I will leave,’ he heard Thor say, the hurt evident in his tone.

‘Oh sit down,’ he declared, still grinning, and opened his eyes to meet Thor’s again. ‘My laughter had a different cause. Let me see the ring.’

Thor handed it over somewhat reluctantly, but appeared willing to believe Loki. Loki took the ring carefully, holding it up for a closer look. It was a simple gold band with a perfectly cut marquise champagne topaz set horizontally along the top. It was bright and warm, practical yet elegant. It was perfect.

Loki handed the ring back to Thor. ‘It is wonderful. I think it is the right choice.’

Thor took it back gratefully, tucking it away in the small jeweller’s box he withdrew from his pocket. ‘And do I make the right choice with Jane? I would have your approval.’

Loki’s eyebrows rose. ‘How can you doubt it? She is a splendid match for you, and I believe you will do well together. As you gave me yours, I give my own blessing willingly.’

Thor looked pathetically grateful, the joy returned to his eyes, the smile to his lips. ‘You will stand beside me as best man.’

‘I would be honoured,’ Loki replied, truth in every word. He turned towards more practical matters. ‘When will you tell mother and father of your choice?’

‘After I speak to Jane, of course,’ Thor informed him good-naturedly, restored to his natural cheer. He rose to his feet. ‘We meet tomorrow to visit the British Museum. I thought it a fitting place for a woman of science and history.’

Loki’s eyes crinkled in concealed mirth, and he nodded in agreement. ‘I wish you well.’

Thor considered him. ‘When does Anthony return? You have been glum this week without him,’ he observed.

Loki grimaced, not able to deny Thor’s comment. Things had felt far duller since Tony had left, his nights alone colder and more lonely. He found himself restless in his own company where before he’d been content to while away the hours in his own pursuits. ‘He returns tomorrow,’ Loki informed him with considerable relief.

Thor stretched out a hand and laid it companionably on Loki’s shoulder. ‘That gladdens me.’

A quiet knock interrupted them, and Thor withdrew his hand as he turned towards the door while Loki called softly for whomever it was to enter. The Lady Frigga stepped inside in a swirl of turquoise and bronze, clearly just returned from an evening out; she had yet to undo the elaborate coils of hair piled atop her head, or remove the jewels from her throat and wrist.

‘My sons,’ she greeted warmly. ‘It feels as if I hardly have chance to see you any more.’

‘So you seek us out in the dead of night as you did while we were young, to assure yourself we sleep and are up to no mischief,’ Loki said humorously.

Lady Frigga laughed daintily. ‘You were only asleep because your mischief had been achieved, otherwise it would have been a feigned rest.’

Loki gave a rippling shrug, not denying her claims in the least, and held his hand out to guide his mother to the window seat Thor had recently vacated. She suited it far more than he had. Instead of releasing his hand, his mother tugged him down to sit beside her, and held his hand between her own.

‘What entertainment were you enjoying this evening?’

‘It was a dinner at Lord and Lady Laufey’s. It seems Lord Odin met Lord Laufey recently, and wished to further his acquaintance,’ Lady Frigga explained.

‘I’ve not heard of them,’ Loki commented, more interested in the movements of society than Thor, if only because of the power knowledge could provide.

‘They have recently moved here from abroad with their ward, a Miss Sigyn, if I recall – a comely girl, mild-mannered and sweet. I understand they wish to present her next season.’

‘Hmm,’ Loki hummed disinterestedly. ‘As long as you enjoyed yourself.’

‘It was good to see you mother, but I must leave you to Loki. I promise to find time to devote to you soon.’ He sent Loki another grateful smile. ‘Thank you for your help, brother.’

With that, he left the room, and Loki and his mother watched him leave. As the door closed, Lady Frigga gave a wistful sigh. ‘I wish that he would reveal his chosen lady soon; I fear I cannot wait.’

Loki arched a brow. ‘How could you know?’

Lady Frigga gave him an arch look. ‘Some things cannot be hidden from your mother,’ she said with a tone of superiority only a mother could have for her children.

Loki confirmed her suspicions easily. ‘Well, he was never the greatest at keeping secrets.’

‘And what is she like, the lady he has chosen?’

‘She challenges him,’ Loki replied enigmatically. It was for Thor to divulge Lady Jane’s identity and introduce her to his parents as he saw fit, and Loki would not overstep that boundary even for the sake of sating his mother’s curiosity. ‘I admire her greatly,’ he allowed after a moment.

‘Then I am glad.’ Lady Frigga clasped his hand tighter, and considered him seriously. ‘And who is it that challenges you?’ she asked softly.

Loki let his eyes fall away from her far too knowing stare; if he thought her reaction to his own lover would be as positive to that of Thor’s, he might have told her, but as it was, he simply raised her hand to press a kiss upon it. ‘That, I’m afraid, will remain a mystery.’

Her gaze remained inquisitive, with a touch of sorrow. ‘I would that you would trust me, my Loki.’

Loki held back his own sigh. He and the Lady Frigga had always been close, perhaps more than was common for most sons with their mothers. It hadn’t been strange as a child, when he’d sought out her gentler company instead of his father and brother, choosing to spend his time in her gardens among the colours and the scents, in the music room where he’d learned the pianoforte at her side, or late in the evening in the dressing room as she readied herself for an evening out.

Of course she had his trust, for all the times she’d stood up for him against Odin, for her love and acceptance of him, and yet although he refused to lie, he could not bring himself to tell her the truth.

‘Some things are beyond trust,’ he said at last, hoping she would understand. Her nod suggested she did.

‘I will leave you to your rest now,’ she announced, rising from her seat. ‘Your father has requested a family dinner next week. Will you be available?’

‘Tell me the day, and I will keep my evening free,’ he reassured her.

After she’d left, Loki returned to his bed, but found himself unable to concentrate on the book he’d previously been reading. Thor and Lady Frigga’s visits had unsettled him.

He was glad for Thor and Lady Jane, for as he’d told his brother, he believed they were well-suited to one another. Lady Jane would challenge Thor to become the best that he could be; she would ensure he made something of his life and did more than simply idle away his time with childish pursuits and drinking. She remained unconventional enough, however, that Loki knew she’d be able to match him in his harebrained schemes when she so chose, albeit perhaps improve upon them. She knew when to be serious, and she knew how to laugh and have fun, and Thor would need both sides of her as he eventually prepared to take over the title of Earl of Asgard.

Thor’s life seemed to be falling into place, and despite his joy for his brother, the implication of it on his own left him melancholy; he would never be able to have such public recognition of his relationship, or approval from his wider family or society. It was not that he even wished for it, for he had always held himself above the expectations of his class, but that it was denied to him on account of gender and his preferences…it stung his pride.

He sighed softly and let himself fall backwards against the bed. Perhaps Tony’s absence this week had affected him more than he’d cared to admit. Although reassured that it was nothing serious, he still worried over the business that had called Tony away. It was disconcerting how Tony’s absence had him pining away like a lovesick maid! He was a grown man, and should not be so dependent upon another. Yet Tony had slithered his way underneath Loki’s skin, embedded himself there and now refused to be shaken away.

It was maddening, in its peculiar pleasant-unpleasant way. In comparison to his infatuation with Svadilfari, his feelings for Tony were far stronger, far more lasting.

He groaned softly and thumped a fist against the covers, sick of himself. He was anxious for Tony’s return, if only to quieten his over-active thoughts.

Let him return for a start, and as for the future, they would have to see.

 

* * *

 

The following evening, Loki nursed a glass of sweet wine in his favourite wing-back armchair in the downstairs parlour, waiting for Thor to emerge from his room. Thor had returned from his day with Lady Jane in a triumphant mood, informing Loki that the lady had accepted his proposal of marriage and he was in the mood to celebrate. Thus, he had invited the males of their group to White’s for the evening, and of course Loki would join them.

Although today was the day of Tony’s return, Loki was glad to accompany his brother. Lady Jane’s agreement was the first step; next their parents would need to be informed, the announcement made in the paper, the Banns read, and all of the requirements and preparations for a marriage of such status. Loki did not envy him, nor begrudge him the wish to celebrate among friends before the whole of London found out.

A knock on the parlour door interrupted his thoughts, and Heimdhall opened the door with an apologetic glance. ‘Mr Barton for you, sir,’ he announced, stepping aside to allow Clint to enter and shutting the door behind him.

Loki set aside his glass with a welcoming smile. ‘Clint, what brings you here? I thought Thor had sent word to meet at White’s.’

Clint stood before him and swept a hand through his hair. It was then Loki noticed his uncertain expression and the tension in his frame.

‘Clint, what is it?’

‘I thought it best you hear it from me than the gossipmongers,’ Clint blurted out, his hands twitching uncomfortably in front of him as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

Loki felt a spike of adrenaline rush through him, and he made a deliberate attempt to calm his breathing even as he licked his suddenly dry lips. ‘What?’ he rasped.

‘Stark… Tony… he returned to London today,’ Clint began, and as much as Loki felt the need to interrupt, he could sense how difficult it was for Clint to get the words out, and so for the both of them he remained silent. ‘He was seen escorting a lady in town this afternoon, and Loki… he introduced her as his fiancée.’

Loki felt his blood run cold as the shock of that tore through him, and he had to forcefully clear his throat in order to speak. Even then his voice was a far fainter timbre. ‘You would not have come to me if it weren’t true,’ and for that Loki supposed he should be grateful to the spy. ‘What is known of her?’

‘Barely anything,’ Clint told him apologetically, as if he were at fault. ‘Her name is Miss Pepper Potts. She is an American heiress whose father worked closely with Tony’s.’

 _Of course_ , Loki thought inwardly. So neat and tidy, and it all fit together like a puzzle, and once again, he was not part of it.

'Thank you for telling me. I’d like to be alone now,’ he requested faintly.

Clint knew better than to argue, and obeyed his request, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Loki remained in the middle of the room, his eyes unfocussed and staring at nothing as the truth of Stark’s betrayal sunk in. It was too naïve to think Clint had misunderstood, that he would come to him with the news had he not verified it as true, so Loki did not even entertain the thought, especially as the words had seemingly come from Tony’s own mouth.

_Tony…_

He closed his eyes against the sharp pain that speared through him, as if he’d been struck down with a ragged wound to his chest to mimic the one that adorned Tony’s physical form.

He’d asked – _he’d_ _asked_ if Tony was attached to another, and Tony had denied it, had _lied_ to him, and that meant these last weeks together, all their talk of the future was likewise a lie. There would be no trips to Brighton; there would be no more visits to Tony’s house; no more watching him play with his experiments; no more sleepless nights spent in physical pleasure.

Tony Stark had a _fiancée._

Loki would never have allowed things to progress so far had he known. He’d never have allowed himself to be played for such a fool.

Already part of him screamed for retribution, to cause Tony the same pain he now felt. Plans were already forming – and it would be so easy. A few words in the right ears and Tony Stark’s acceptance in polite society would cease. It would not matter if Loki’s rumours were truth or lie – their very existence would render Tony persona-non-grata among the ton.

Let him see how he would live in London then, let him see now how many would sponsor his inventions. Let him see how welcome Miss Pepper Potts would be. So powerful was the name of Asgard that Loki need never see Tony again.

The satisfaction he expected to feel at that left a hollow ache in his chest, for that was not what Loki wanted.

He wanted Tony, and it was clear he could not have him.

With a scream of mingled rage and anguish, Loki lashed out, his fists catching the small table beside his armchair, sending it crashing to the floor, his glass and decanter of wine shattering beside it in a spray of glass and red. The tall lampshade followed, Loki uncaring of the value of the items, needing only to see something rent and destroyed as he himself felt inside.

He’d turned his attention to the side-table with its array of candlesticks and precious vases when the door opened abruptly and Thor entered the room, clearly in the process of putting on his evening garb. The blond glanced quickly around the room before turning his attention to Loki.

‘Loki, what ails you?’

‘Leave me alone!’ Loki hissed desperately, fingers stiff as claws curling round a deep porcelain bowl that had been a gift to his father, before he raised it and threw it against the opposite wall.

‘Loki! Stop this madness!’ Thor demanded, rapidly stepping to Loki and taking hold of his arms as he made to grab a china figurine. He spun him around so that he faced him, and Loki could see the concern and confusion on his expressive face. His blue eyes grew darker and his brow furrowed. ‘Loki, what is the cause of your tears?’ he asked in bewilderment.

Loki raised a hand and swept it under his eyes, and true enough, his fingers came away wet; funny, as he’d not even noticed. He laughed bitterly, brokenly, and made to pull away from Thor’s grip, but his brother was strong, and determined to keep him within reach it seemed.

Thor’s eyes narrowed. ‘Has someone harmed you? Done you ill? Tell me, and I will make it right.’

Loki closed his eyes against the ache that surged anew, and lifting his hands to encircle Thor’s wrists, let his head fall against Thor’s chest so that his hair concealed his features, and he would not have to look at Thor’s earnest face any longer.

‘You are ever loyal and dependable,’ he murmured, and even he could not tell if he said it as insult or compliment. ‘There is nothing you can do. This cannot be fixed.’

Thor tugged his hands gently from Loki’s hold and brought them up to cup Loki’s face in his large palms, pressing his chin against Loki’s forehead in a show of support and affection. ‘There are always ways,’ he argued firmly.

 _Not with this_ , Loki thought from within his brother’s embrace. There would be no easy solution for this, no fairytale ending for him. All that he could do was to conceal from Tony just how much of himself he had given.

 

* * *

 

 

Never let it be said that Thor wasn’t stubborn. Despite Loki’s words, he didn’t believe the situation was unfixable, and he was going to do all he could to help. Although Loki had been unwilling to divulge the precise details of the situation and the cause of his distress, Thor wasn’t stupid, and could guess what – or more accurately _who_ – was behind it. There was only one person he knew who could affect Loki so much, and Thor was determined to seek him out.

He’d left his brother in his room, Loki no longer in the mood to join in Thor’s revelry. Thor didn’t blame him; even his enthusiasm had wilted somewhat.

He arrived at Anthony’s house in record time, and skipped up the steps to pound on the door. It cracked open and Thor pushed inside almost without waiting for it to open fully, ignoring Jarvis’ presence entirely.

‘Anthony!’ he boomed in the entrance way, glaring round as if to spot the inventor peeping out from behind a door.

Stark appeared almost at once on the upper landing, and stared down at Thor in surprise. He made his way down the stairs and slowed to a halt at the bottom. ‘Thor – what’s going on?’

‘You tell me, Anthony,’ Thor retorted gruffly, his anger momentarily halted in the face of Stark’s confusion. ‘I am here regarding Loki.’

Concern immediately suffused Anthony’s face, something Thor could not help find gratifying, and it tempered his mood somewhat. ‘Is he all right?’

‘Nay, Anthony,’ Thor said gravely. ‘He is not well this eve, and I believe you may know the cause.’

‘Me?’ Anthony’s eyebrows rose. ‘I haven’t even seen him since I’ve got back-’ he cut off abruptly, and his expression morphed into one of realisation. ‘Ah…’ he uttered softly.

‘Do you know of what I speak?’ Thor queried with relief.

Anthony looked regretful as he nodded, but his mouth was also firm, his eyes resolved. ‘I believe I do.’

‘And will you correct this misunderstanding?’ Thor persisted.

‘I will.’

Thor nodded, mollified. He reached out a hand and laid it on Anthony’s shoulder, squeezing gently. ‘I am glad to hear that.’

He turned to leave, realising that there was little more he could do. There was no need to pry into the grisly details of their argument, or misunderstanding, or whatever it was that had brought Loki to be so out of sorts, as long as it was dealt with and set aside. He believed Anthony would attempt that much.

And if he didn’t, well, Thor could always pay another visit.

 

* * *

 

 

The following morning Loki sat in the breakfast room calmly buttering a slice of toast. He’d slept exceedingly little the night before, but despised the thought of what wallowing in bed would make him, so had elected to continue his normal routines of the day. It made little sense to do anything else; his life, as it was, would continue. 

Luckily, Lady Frigga and Odin had yet to rise, and there was no sign of Thor, which meant there was no one to comment on his paleness or the dark smudges beneath his eyes.

It was just as well, for he had no desire for conversation this morning.

Heimdhall entered the room silently, and Loki glanced up.

‘There is a visitor for you,’ the butler announced.

‘Who?’ Loki asked, but part of him already knew the answer; he just hoped he was wrong, because he was not ready for this confrontation, had not had nearly long enough to compose himself and settle his thoughts.

‘Mr Anthony Stark,’ Heimdhall replied, and Loki clenched his hand into a fist, accidentally tearing the newspaper he had been idly flicking through. He felt suddenly too warm, his mouth and throat scratchy and dry. Anger and hurt curdled together in his gut, and he swallowed hard against it.

‘Show him to the parlour,’ he instructed; Heimdhall hesitated a fraction of a moment, but then turned to do Loki’s bidding. Loki took that extra minute to pull himself together.

When he entered the parlour, there was no trace of his tumultuous emotions, and although he could not hide his sleepless night, he could and certainly would conceal the cause. Tony stood in the room casually dressed, his hands in his pockets, his clever mouth somewhat grim, his brown eyes sharp as they assessed Loki.

Loki gifted him with a polite and friendly smile. ‘Ah, Tony, I’d heard you’d returned from your northern voyage. How kind of you to call; I hope the matter which called you away is all settled. What can I do for you today?’

Tony’s expression displayed disappointment, but there was something determined in his eyes, and also his voice when he said: ‘Don’t,’ he said firmly. ‘You know why I’m here. We need to talk.’

There wasn’t even a hint of apology in him, and that left Loki off-balance, but he rallied himself, continuing with the nonchalance he’d decided to adopt. ‘If it’s the news of your betrothal to Miss Potts, I have already heard.’ He gave a small, practiced shrug. ‘I must admit that our…relations are ending sooner than I had anticipated; I believe we are compatible physically, and I have enjoyed our time together. However, you’ll soon be a married man, and all things considered, it seems to be an appropriate time to bring this little foray to a close.’

Tony stepped closer, removing his hands from his pockets. ‘Loki, it’s not what you think. Hear me out.’

Loki gave a put upon sigh. ‘I’m afraid I don’t really have the time,’ he said archly. ‘I trust you can see yourself out, Stark.’ He turned around preparing to leave, but Tony’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm, halting him in his steps. His anger ignited and he lashed out, attempting to tear his arm from Tony’s hold, but the other man’s grip was deceptively strong. He glared at Tony through narrowed eyes. ‘Unhand me, Stark; you lost the right to touch me when you deceived me.’

Tony’s grip loosened and his hand fell away. He held both up in a show of acquiescence, but his body was tense, as if he would do the same thing if Loki attempted to move away again. ‘I didn’t tell you about Pepper, it’s true. There’s a reason for it, and you owe it to us to let me explain.’

‘You’ll find there is no longer an _us_ ,’ Loki spat, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. ‘– if there ever was.’ Still, he crossed his arms over his chest as he considered Tony with feigned disinterest. He didn’t know what was worse – to hear the truth of Tony’s deception, or more useless platitudes fall from his lips. Yet there was a part of him which accepted this as his punishment for his foolishness in trusting the other man, in giving himself to him. ‘Say your piece. Then I expect you to leave.’

Tony nodded, straightening slightly. He kept his eyes on Loki’s as he spoke in a low voice. ‘Before I come to what happened this last week, I need to tell you about Pepper, so that you can understand who and what she is, and what she means to me.

‘I’ve known Pepper since we were children. Her father ran in the same spheres as ours and her father worked with mine on several ventures. Her family came from the same wealth, and Pepper was their only child. Her father and mother loved her, and she was indulged as a single child often is. She was raised to be proud, and intelligent, and independent. It was always his will that Pepper would inherit everything when she came of age, in spite of her gender.’ He paused, his jaw clenching slightly. ‘They didn’t anticipate the fire,’ he continued softly. ‘Pepper was the only one of the family who survived, and it was only then that we discovered the specific terms of his will. Pepper was over twenty-one, so there was no guardian stipulated, but the will did not release her full inheritance until she was twenty-five. Also, in the event of a marriage, a large part of it would revert to her husband – a dowry, I believe, but an oversight and a foolish move on his part.’

His voice held an undertone of disgust, which only grew stronger as he told the next part of his tale. ‘It made Pepper a target. At first it was fortune hunters, sniffing at her skirts and trying to coerce her into marriage. Most could be persuaded that it was not in their best interests to pursue her, and I played a large part in that. Then they began turning nasty; I suppose the temptation of her fortune was too much.

‘The first incident, a man drugged her and attempted to compromise her. I shot him for his trouble,’ he said matter-of-factly, his eyes cold. ‘I thought it would be enough to protect her when I came to London, and I left my man of business Happy as a protector for her. It wasn’t enough.’

He broke off, glanced away, and despite himself, Loki was caught up in the story, in the emotions that Tony was displaying so clearly. ‘What happened?’ he prompted hoarsely.

‘Just after I left for London, about six months ago, she was kidnapped on her way to a party. She was found relatively quickly and came to no harm, but it was clear things were too dangerous for her there. Happy decided to send her to London, to me, but his letter informing me never arrived, and the first I knew of it was the letter I got last week telling me they’d arrived in Liverpool.’ He sighed softly as he finished.

Loki found himself uncertain of what to say. The tale was certainly a lot to take in, and just seemed to lead to more questions than answers. ‘I can understand your connection to Miss Potts, and I can understand your distress at finding she had come here,’ he said slowly. ‘However what I cannot understand is why your engagement did not serve as greater protection while still in America, nor why you did not simply wed following the death of her parents.’

Tony looked momentarily startled and hurried to explain, ‘Loki, we only decided to get engaged this week. Even then it’s only until she turns twenty-five in just under a year and inherits. Then we’ll call it off.’

Loki froze, uncertain he’d heard correctly. ‘The engagement is…not real?’ he asked, half in bewilderment, half in hope.

Tony took a step forward, reached out as if to touch Loki again, but just managed to hold back. ‘No, Loki,’ he said earnestly. ‘It’s just a ruse, to keep her safe. There’s no relationship between us, and there’ll be no marriage.’ He scrunched his nose up slightly. ‘It’d be like marrying my sister for one thing, and secondly… Loki, you’re the only one I want.’

Loki had to swallow hard at that and he could feel the tension in his stomach unknot ever so slightly, that tiny amount of relief spreading through his limbs and up to his throat and mouth, where he stumbled over his words. ‘You’re not getting married?’ he blurted out in a small voice, feeling silly and vulnerable, but wanting to hear the words.

Tony just shook his head and took another step forwards until he was only inches from Loki’s chest, his breath just tickling Loki’s chin. ‘Loki, I’m crazy about you,’ he whispered brokenly, and it was there in his eyes, that hint of _fearpromise **love**_ , and Loki knew that for Tony, this declaration was so much more than it seemed.

He was moving instantly, his fingers spearing through Tony’s hair and dragging him forwards as he slanted his lips over the other man’s and plundered his mouth with his tongue as if he were trying to imprint Tony’s taste in his very cells. Tony’s hands came up to rest on his upper arms, curling around them firmly as he gave himself into the kiss. When Loki pulled away gasping for air, Tony was looking at him in concern and Loki wondered what sort of picture he presented, if he looked as mad as he felt inside. He leaned his forehead against Tony’s and stared at him through slightly too-wide eyes.

‘I thought I could not have you,’ he forced out raggedly, so exposed, so needy, but unable to keep the truth hidden.

Tony gave him a lop-sided smile. ‘Oh Loki,’ he chuckled weakly, ‘you couldn’t be more wrong.’

Loki closed his eyes in relief.

 

* * *

 

 

Three days later, and it was as if nothing had happened.

Although the news of Tony’s engagement spread through the ton, his and Loki’s routine changed very little. Loki was introduced to Miss Potts – “Call me Pepper, please; if we’re going to be joining forces to keep Tony in line, then we may as well be on a first name basis” – and to his surprise had found her as likeable as Tony had described, even more so perhaps, considering that her presence gave him a new perspective into Tony Stark. Tony had set her up in a respectable apartment with a respectable companion-cum-chaperone, and careful observation had shown him that Tony and Pepper’s relationship was purely platonic, and that neither had any inclination to change this. Once her situation had been explained to Thor, Clint and the others, she became a new but welcome part of their group.

It made Loki’s lingering doubts recede, and he found himself even closer to the inventor than before; he supposed the slight shock of nearly breaking off their relationship had had its impact on them both, for Tony was especially attentive to him at the moment, and Loki couldn’t help but revel in it.

The thought of the previous evening spent with Tony and the lingering ache as he shifted in his seat brought a smile to his lips, and he had to conceal it by taking a sip of his wine lest his parents query the cause. The meal had been fairly quite and innocuous thus far, although Loki was certain there was something more to it and hoped it would be revealed before long, as he was eager to get away.

There was a clink of cutlery as Odin lay down his knife and fork, and he cleared his throat.

‘There was a specific reason I asked for this dinner,’ he informed them, and Loki turned his full attention to him, hoping his father wouldn’t draw the pronouncement out too long. He didn’t, his single eye unerringly fixing itself on Loki. ‘Loki, I have been in discussions with Lord Laufey regarding his ward, Miss Sigyn, and it seems they are amenable to a match between yourselves.’

Loki’s eyebrows shot up disbelievingly. ‘A match? As in – marriage?’ His mouth curled in a half-smile, but he could feel the pulse in his throat start to beat faster.

Beside him, on one side Thor choked on the mouthful of food he’d just taken, and on the other, Lady Frigga remained silent, although there was surprise on her own features as if this too was news to her. The thought was not comforting.

‘Yes,’ Odin replied shortly.

Loki gave a forced chuckle. ‘Why father, I thank you for your attempt at jesting, however-’

‘I do not jest,’ Odin cut him off sharply, his brows drawing together. ‘It is a suitable arrangement, and I wish for you to act upon it.’

Loki glanced down and made a deliberate show of setting his own cutlery down across the plate; he placed his hands in his lap, as much to hide the fine trembling that had currently overtaken them as anything else. ‘And I suppose I do not have a choice in this?’ he asked coldly.

‘Of course you do, Loki,’ Lady Frigga interrupted, ever the peace-maker, but Odin seemed determined to ignore her in this, for he continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

‘The girl is from a respectable family, although not particularly wealthy, nor titled, and therefore her prospects are not the highest, so a second son of such a prestigious family is more than she could hope for; as for yourself, you have made no attempts to marry yourself, nor shown a preference. I do not see what your objections could be.’

He said it so dismissively that Loki was left speechless for several long seconds. Did not see…? He knew what was expected of sons in this day and age, and he’d always known that he’d be tasked with the particular duty of marriage, but he hadn’t expected it to be so soon, and he hadn’t expected it to be _now._ He also hadn’t expected to be given no choice in the matter, and that rankled, caused his anger to simmer and rebellion to stir in his breast.

To marry now, when he had Tony, when his life was finally coming to be something he was happy with? And for what – to please his father, do his bidding?

He didn’t think so.

‘My objection, you say,’ he said quietly, his voice vibrating with his anger. His eyes flashed as he met Odin’s gaze once more, and he put as much mockery in his tone as he could when he answered. ‘I’m afraid the female form holds no appeal to me,’ he announced simply, and let that sink in, let the realisation light in Odin’s eye before he continued in a sharp drawl, ‘besides, my lover would object.’

Odin surged to his feet, his face tinged red with rage. ‘I will not have such talk in my house!’ he roared. ‘I will not have you bring such embarrassment on this family, on the name of Asgard! Shame yourself with your perversions as you will, but you will do it in secret like all the others.’ His eye narrowed warningly. ‘And you _will_ marry this girl.’

‘Or what?’ Loki challenged, standing up in a far more leisurely way, although his back was ramrod straight, his chin lifted in defiance.

‘Or you will leave this house, and you will be cast out from this family,’ Odin delivered his verdict.

Loki didn’t even need to think twice – his father’s approval and his name, compared to Tony Stark? There was no contest. ‘Then I bid you farewell,’ he said, and gave an irreverent bow as he turned on his heel towards the door.

‘If you cast Loki out, then I go too!’

Loki glanced over his shoulder in surprise, seeing Thor on his feet also, a shield between him and Odin, his large hands clenched, his blue eyes shining with loyalty and justice like the fool he was.

‘Thor-’ Loki began, intending to tell him to end his involvement in this, and although touched by his brother’s loyalty, that he was not worth it.

Before he could utter the words, the last member of the family added their voice.

‘ _That is enough!_ ’ Lady Frigga said stridently; she did not rise from her seat, and she did not speak loudly, but such was the power in her voice that all turned to her expectantly.

‘There will be no more talk of leaving this house, and there will be no more talk of a marriage to Miss Sigyn,’ she declared with finality. ‘Loki is our son, and he is a grown man, thus he is free to choose as he pleases. We are of Aesir, and we are of Asgard. We make the rules.’

She set her gaze upon each of them in turn, lingering longest on Odin, until with reluctance he took his seat.

‘Loki, Thor – return to your seats,’ she instructed, and Loki, not knowing what else to do, obeyed.

He’d been so full of fight, ready to walk out of his home and his family for the sake of the man he wished to be with above all others, and now, it seemed the storm had passed with only a few words from his mother.

He stared at her with wonderment and respect; she met his gaze, and her blue eyes were warm as they met his.

‘Loki, I expect you to introduce your friend to us,’ she told him matter-of-factly as she resumed her meal, not even stumbling over the term.

Loki swallowed. ‘Of course, mother,’ he answered faintly.

Conversation remained stilted for the remainder of the meal, the atmosphere awkward, and Odin silently fuming; for all that, the meal continued, the truth was now out, and Loki had his mother’s acceptance and approval, if not Odin’s, and remained a member of the family. He was sure this would not be the last of it he heard from Odin, but Lady Frigga had made her position abundantly clear, and that would go a long way in keeping the peace.

It was a veritable success as far as Loki was concerned, although that was the last family dinner he planned to attend any time soon.

As he and Thor left the dining room, he glanced towards his brother, nudging his arm affectionately with his shoulder. ‘Thank you, Thor,’ he said softly.

‘There is no need. It is what any honourable man would do,’ Thor dismissed his gratitude.

Loki accepted the sentiment for what it was, and then gave a chuckle as a thought came to him.

Thor looked at him quizzically, and Loki explained with amusement: ‘At the least, after this you should not have nearly so much difficulty presenting Jane.’

 

* * *

 

 

‘The thesis is almost done.' 

Loki glanced up from his newspaper to Tony sitting opposite him at the breakfast table where Tony was scanning Banner’s latest letter.

‘We can go back, if you prefer?’ Loki offered, knowing that being here in Brighton the last few weeks meant Tony has missed out on putting the final touches on the thesis about their electromagnet. It seemed a shame considering all his effort in actually getting the device to work, something which they’d managed to perfect shortly before the end of summer.

Tony gave an indifferent shrug. ‘Nah. Bruce and Erik do best with the theory and writing stuff; you know I like the bits where I can get my hands dirty.’ He waggled his eyebrows comically.

Loki fought a smile at the obvious double entendre, and although he tutted, he knew Tony could sense his reaction in the way the American’s eyes lit up; he was grinning as he went back to his pile of letters.

Loki continued with his breakfast, glancing out of the small balcony window where he could just see the harbour and the blue sea in the distance.

With Tony’s money and full attention, it hadn’t taken long for the renovations of the house in Brighton to be completed to his requirements. He had enlisted Pepper in the final details of furnishings and decoration, something which had delighted her to no end, and alarmed Tony and Loki once they realised she had extended that invitation to Lady Jane and Natasha. If Loki had thought Natasha and Lady Jane a terrifying combination, then the three women together were a veritable force to be reckoned with.

For all the arguments along the way, the end result was something masculine and stylish, but ultimately homely, and more importantly, _theirs_.

For all Loki enjoyed the madness of Tony’s London house, on occasion the presence of the others became somewhat harrowing, particularly towards the end of the project when sleep was minimal and tension was high. With regards his own house, despite Thor and Lady Frigga’s support, the atmosphere in the Aesir household remained vaguely unpleasant, so the less time Loki spent there the better as far as he was concerned.

Thus, with the project all but completed and the season coming to an end, Tony and Loki had removed themselves to Brighton where they were able to take a moment for themselves, and try to recreate that relaxed and exploratory time from before. With Jarvis and several others of Tony’s most trusted servants, they’d fallen into a pleasant routine, and if it was far more domesticated than either of them was used to, well, they were adjusting admirably.

Clint and Natasha’s wedding was a less than a month away, and they would certainly return to London for that, and a few other engagements they’d received invitations for, but otherwise, they were free to do as they pleased – and Loki revelled in it.

‘There’s one for you.’

‘Hm?’ Loki startled, and Tony’s grin was sly as he flicked a letter his way. Loki rolled his eyes in response, and tore open the missive. His eyes scanned the brief contents quickly, and then he burst into startled laughter.

‘What’s so funny?’ Tony queried, but Loki shook his head, unable to find the words.

Tony pouted. ‘No fair – you’ve got to share.’

‘It’s from Thor,’ Loki was finally able to say. ‘It seems he and Jane have eloped to Gretna Green.’

Tony grinned. ‘Well I’ll be,’ he said in admiration. ‘Never would have expected that of the little lovebirds.’

‘I suppose the prospect of the ton wedding proved a little too much for Jane,’ Loki mused. Jane had indeed been accepted far more willingly into his family than Tony had, but Odin’s disappointment in both of his sons’ choices was evident. Like Loki, Thor was unaffected, and Loki thought that perhaps was the best thing Jane had been able to do for him.

Loki reread the letter from his brother, thoroughly amused. It was a shame that his mother would not have the wedding she’d hoped for her son, but she would understand. She seemed to understand a lot.

When he happened to look up a few moments later, Tony was staring at him thoughtfully, and appeared to have been for a short while.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘I seem to recall you still owe me one,’ Tony told him.

It took a second for Loki to recall what he meant, but then it clicked. ‘The billiards game? An honest answer to a single question, as I remember. Have you finally thought of something?’

Tony nodded, his eyes not leaving Loki’s.

‘Well, go on,’ Loki prompted when Tony failed to speak, intrigued as to what his lover had come up with after all this time.

‘If I asked you to go away with me, would you say yes?’

Loki stilled. ‘Go away?’ he asked for clarification.

‘Travel – go wherever you want, however long you want,’ Tony explained. ‘I want to be with you, want to show you different places – show you _off_ in different places. I read about some interesting technologies they’re looking at in Asia; thought I’d have a look.’ He seemed so earnest, but there was uncertainty there too.

Loki rose from his seat and stepped towards him. When he was in reach, he used a finger to tilt Tony’s head up, and leant down to press a deliberate, sweet, and lingering kiss against his lips.

Tony kept his head up to meet his eyes as he pulled away. ‘Is that a yes?’ he asked hopefully.

Loki’s thumb brushed softly against Tony’s cheek, and as he looked down at him, he could only feel an absurd happiness and gratitude that he’d found this bizarre, beautiful, fascinating man.

‘That’s a yes.’

 

* * *

 

 

_The End_

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Use of Condoms in the story: this was a point raised, so I thought I'd explain it. Condoms were available and used during the 19th Century, mostly by upper and middle classes due to affordability of the condoms, more education in terms of STDs and more consciousness over pregnancy. They were mostly made from treated linen or animal skins/intestines, and tended to be reusable; other forms were available to the lower classes, just not as good. 
> 
> I felt on the whole that Tony, being as promiscuous as he is and having friends in the medical field (especially a previous lover such as Bruce), would take something like this seriously.
> 
>  
> 
> 2) This work is intended to be the start of a series of pieces set in the same Regency-era universe. The next work will be a Clint/Natasha focussed story, and then I'll see where I go from there.


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